


Hunter and the Hunted

by MadnessIsScience



Series: Hunter and the Hunted [1]
Category: KickTheSticks, Phan, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Septiplier - Fandom, joshler - Fandom, pewdiecry, twentyonepilots, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Amazingphil - Freeform, Apocalypse, Artists, Changed, Chaoticmonki - Freeform, Character Death, Chris Kendall - Freeform, Cryaotic - Freeform, Dan Howell - Freeform, Daniel Howell - Freeform, Death, Depression, Dog - Freeform, F/M, KickTheStickz - Freeform, M/M, Mark Fischbach - Freeform, Markiplier - Freeform, Music, New Writer, PJ Liguori - Freeform, Pets, PewdieCry - Freeform, Pewds - Freeform, Phan - Freeform, Phil Lester - Freeform, Philip lester - Freeform, Sad, Scary, Sean McLoughlin - Freeform, Septiplier - Freeform, Suicide, Survival, Thriller, Top - Freeform, Twenty One Pilots Reference, Weapons, YouTube, YouTubers - Freeform, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, broken city - Freeform, cinamontoastken, danisnotonfire - Freeform, felix kjellberg - Freeform, forest, jacksepticeye - Freeform, josh dun - Freeform, joshler - Freeform, lordminion777 - Freeform, muyscerm, pewdiepie - Freeform, puppy, ships, survive, twentyonepilots - Freeform, tyler joseph - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2020-12-24 21:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 31,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadnessIsScience/pseuds/MadnessIsScience
Summary: (Septiplier)Twenty-four months, seven-hundred and thirty days, seventeen-thousand five-hundred and twenty hours, that's how long ago everything had begun, the stereotypical outbreak, something you'd think to only see in the movies. Today marks the two year anniversary of the fall of humanity. I'm honestly still almost impressed I've been able to keep up with it all, dates and time, but I've somehow managed. It helps me feel like I'm still somehow connected to the remnants of what humanity was before, unlike other things.Jack's been alone for a very long time learning the skills and ways of survival. He never had much of a group for any more than maybe a few hours to face the world with, only large, beautiful dog named Sheba. But what happens when end-laced Jack re-acquaints himself with his old war-bitten friend Mark?... There'll be terrifying twists and turns throughout their fight to stay alive and together, fighting against the dead and the living, as both are as much a threat as the other.





	1. ~~~..{Chapter One}..~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Not a real lot to say. Just enjoy it, and I'm sorry for the inevitably slow updates. <3

TWENTY-FOUR MONTHS and I've lost so much, a piece of everything, of all of me. I've lost my mother, friends, my home, everything. The only company I now keep being Sheba, a beautiful black German Sheppard with sparkling, shining-like-diamond eyes, a deep crystal blue, an unforgettable colour, something I once saw when I would look in the mirror, but it can't be found anymore.

I've had her since she was a pup, weak a fragile, found in the streets alone and left to die. It'd sometimes cross my mind how it was someone else could find it in them to leave such a creature behind, especially in times like these, but then again, in a way, it also made sense; she was just another mouth to feed, and maybe they hadn't the food to keep her, but only being me, I didn't mind. In a way, she played a part in keeping me somewhat sane.

Twenty-four months, seven-hundred and thirty days, seventeen-thousand five-hundred and twenty hours, that's how long ago everything had begun, the stereotypical outbreak, something you'd think to only see in the movies. Today marks the second anniversary of the fall of humanity. I'm honestly still almost impressed I've been able to keep up with it all, dates and time, but I've somehow managed. It helps me feel like I'm still somehow connected to the remnants of what humanity was before, unlike other things.

Wednesday the ninth of April two-thousand and fourteen at almost exactly seven o'clock pm is when the entire world, my world that is, fell to shit.

It was an emergency news broadcast that had drug me from my laptop screen, the headlines practically embroidered in my long term, I can still even now, find the precise visual moment in my head. "Virus Escaped VIRF" the Viral Infection Research Facility. There was a slightly scruffy man in a sloppy fitting suit jacket watching me from my television screen, spitting out words that had the power to make my heart race.

_APRIL 2014_

_"There has been an urgent notice for everyone to stay indoors and keep to themselves. A virus unknown by name has been reported to have escaped the VIRF scientific research tower and has been labelled deadly. The supposed common early symptoms of reported cases so far include torso cramps and nausea, followed by aches and pains in the upper abdomen and soon spreading throughout the entirety of the body, and finally revealing a devastating fever accompanied by migraines that have so far resulted in patient death. There is no current antidote or immunisation that has been found to work. Everyone is recommended to isolate themselves as soon as symptoms appear. There is no current evidence that suggests this virus has not had the time to spread worldwide." The man spoke with severity causing me to feel almost sick. There's genuine fear in his TV screen eyes that is just as present in his voice._

_"Work has begun at VIRF looking for what it may have been that has caused the pandemic that has had reported cases worldwide, confused people trying to figure out just what it is that's going on here. We will notify you with updates as they are released for us, so make sure to stay tuned in."_

_Halfway through saying something about the government sending out supplies the power abruptly shut off. I was now left in darkness with nothing but the light of my laptop illuminating my face and the small area around me._

_"Sean!" Ma calls from her room at the end of a twisted hall._

_"Power's out! I'll go see what's going on alright? Try not to move around!" I shout back to her through the walls._

_I stumble through the living room, dancing around chairs and a coffee table before coming to a halt in front of the old bookshelf sat stoic leaning against the wall across from the front door. I began fiddling with a jammed draw that I remember holds a torch that hopefully still has charged batteries. I wriggle the handle and bang my palm against the side and top until it shifts free, revealing the torch and a photo frame I had put in there a few months ago. The frame holds a picture of Mum and me when I was around twelve years old._

_Forcing the drawer shut again, I begin to trip my way forwards towards the door._

_The weather had been starting to heat up around now, but tonight there's a chill filling the space around me, causing my arms to bear goose-bumps as I close the door and turn out facing the charcoal night._

_I flick the torch on illuminating the porch in front of me and the steps not too far ahead descending into a new kind of darkness._

_I make my way around the back of the house where I'd come accustomed to remembering the electrical box was, and standing before it I open up the small metallic door hiding away all the switches and fuses. There was no light indicating there was any kind of electricity flowing through the wires through. I flick the main switch up and down twice, but still, nothing._

_Perhaps it's something wrong with the cables?_

_I shine the torch's circular beam of light along the tubing that had been nailed to the wall a long time ago, keeping them against it, suddenly, I begin to hear a buzz, an electric sound whispering away a few meters from the main box._

_I make my way over to the origins of the sound, and to my disbelief, their cables have been severed, a blue-white spark erupting from it every few moments. Who'd done this? Who would cut our power? And why?_

_The line though, as I look at it more closely, looks less like it'd been cut, and more like it'd been torn at, as if someone hadn't used cutters to do this but their bare hands. I lean in to examine the line more closely when I see it, the bloody red smear contrasting against the side of the old house where it'd been severed. Had someone cut themselves doing this?_

_Underneath the broken lines is a dead rat, looking very much like the cat had gotten to it at some point, it had been ripped to pieces. I'd often see them running along the lines. Was this the work of the cat? No don't be stupid Sean, the cat couldn't do this._

_Turning from the wires and rat I hear a noise from out in the short distance, there was something in the bushes, or more, someone. Had they seen me? Is he the person who cut our power? What was he doing in the bushes? He's crouched and facing the other direction. The bushes though aren't all that far away from the carport I was currently standing under._

_Picking up an axe I'd often use to cut wood with, I shine the torch out again, getting another look at the stranger trespassing on our property._

_"Hey! Who's there??" I call towards them, trying to keep my voice even as to give the impression that I wasn't messing around. The sound of my voice makes whoever it is, almost flinch a little. They're just crouched there, looking as though they're picking things up from the ground and putting them in their mouth. What are they doing?_

_I watch as the figure shifts a little and turns towards me, looking me dead in the eyes and I freeze, barely able to shine the light at them directly, from their hands back down to their feet... I stand motionless, taking in every detail of the figure before me, a sickness rising in my guts telling me that this is real, but how could it be?_

_I see pale skin, hanging off of this man in random places, and barely holding onto the bony arms he's holding at his sides. I see smeared red and brown and green and yellow, all the colours that human skin shouldn't be, but then I see his eyes... red, dead and covered in clouds._

_They're a few meters in front of me and down by his feet, I see something else. They were eating my cat!_

_"Sean? What's going on?"The familiar voice of my mother sounds from around the corner. She comes into view, confusion lacing her features as if they were made of it, and perhaps right now they are. I can't speak, I can't warn her, I can't do anything... I'm frozen._

_She holds her hands on her hips, waiting patiently for me to say something, anything, but she'll be waiting a lifetime because nothing will exit my mouth, shock's holding it all in as if they were kidnapping them._

_That man... He... he isn't human..._

_A few moments pass of nothing at all before everything begins to happen all at once. First, the man of the hour comes into view, and still, I say nothing._

_"Sean? Are you okay, Honey?" Sentences are barely finished before she's on the ground, trying with everything she has to push the man off of her, the man, or whatever it is. They're both on the ground, both trying to accomplish something different and I'm just standing here... Fucking do something, Sean!_

_Before I can even register what I'm thinking of doing, I hear a scream, and a sound of liquid hitting the ground. There's blood everywhere and hanging from my mother's neck like a necklace is the mouth of the creature who ate my cat, furiously trying to get more and more into its mouth._

_I can see the strands of vain and muscle hanging from the wound now._

_Do something!_

_"No! Ma' No! No! No! No, no, no, no...No!" I scream, suddenly feeling the weight of the axe in my hand before I lift it and swing it around my body, smacking the creature in the face, missing by a centimetre too much to do any good, its cheek now hanging from the edge of my blade. He's completely unfazed by what I just did._

_I bring the axe around behind me again before taking another massive swing and slicing through its throat, I can hear the shatter of bone and tearing of flesh before the head rolls to a halt by a now slumped over body._

_I drop down to my knees as soon as the axe has dropped against the ground, I hold my hands against the bite on her neck, trying my best to hold the blood inside but somewhere inside of myself I knew this was over... I know she isn't going to make it. Her blood is now slipping through the creases between my fingers._

_She looks at me, right in the eyes, hers filled with fear and agony, pain and suffering she's hurting so, so much... I don't know what to do... Someone needs to tell me what to do!_

_"It's okay," I repeat over and over, "its okay, Ma. It's okay... You'll be okay..." I whisper as her eyes slide shut, and I feel her lack of heartbeat._

I don't come across many people out there. The ones I have, either wanted to kill me or eat me, and I guess that's kind of the same thing if you think it over, except being killed was most probably a gun to the head and a quick goodbye, a quick shot to the brain by a human being, and being eaten was made an option by the people that, aren't so human anymore.

I just jump from building to building most of the time now, staying up high and out of sight. I'd put into practice things I'd seen people do on the internet a long time back when it still was, watching them jumping and flipping and scaling, it was quite a magical thing to watch back then, now it's pretty much my entire survival plan. I wouldn't have seen this coming a few years ago, but I guess, I never saw the apocalypse happening either. Parkour has saved my life, on more than a couple of occasions. I can execute it well enough to keep myself out of trouble on a good day, be fast, be unseen and keep myself alive.

I think I started building jumping around a year ago, and doing so has led me to being able to get around with more speed and more efficiently because there's never usually anything to worry about on the rooves. There was one occasion where I ran into someone who'd died up there, and I remember almost dying myself trying to kill it. But I managed.

By 'it' you will have guessed by now, I'm referring to none other than, Zombies. I don't like the word myself, as even in this situation, and everything that's happened, it still just doesn't seem real enough to say aloud, so I simply call 'em either Risen or Dead.

Turns out the virus never stopped at killing the host, I mean, they're dead, but something about the virus brings them back. They aren't the same person any more of course, as I found the hard way.

Sheba and I have just finished clearing out a store, one I was very surprised to find had anything left at all. It'd been looted before, but by the looks of the job they'd done, they had to get out of there quick. I'd say raiders, but it could have been the dead. There was a surprising amount of food and water in there that they would have found had they looked properly. Two years in and there's still food lying around could mean two things now though.

No one's looking hard enough, or there isn't anyone left to look.

We make our way along the street out in the open silently, not even footsteps can be heard. I had to train myself to move this way as a tactic, even the slightest sounds can alert Risen. They respond to sound and smell mostly, so I always have to be careful.

After a few minutes, we reach the bus we'd left here only a few hours ago. It's off to the side of the street barricading the front doors of an old library. Sheba and I move through the broken in windscreen and pick ourselves back out of the doors now facing the sky, giving us an easy ladder to the top of the rolled over transit vehicle. We then jump in through an open window into the second floor of the building.

The room we're now it is dark and somewhat cold, but empty at the most.

Sheba's a large dog, I'd never really expected it to be honest, as she was so small when I found her, cowering among her mother and brother's dead bodies.

I know this place is empty, because this was the way Sheba and I have become accustomed to using to get in and out of the city. There's no way for them to get in here, I've checked. It's how we got in today.

We make our way towards the stairs and begin a fast climb to the roof.


	2. ~~~..{Chapter Two}..~~~

The two of us continue on our way away from the city and back into the thick, dark forest of which we came from earlier, steadily making our way back towards the place Sheba and I have learned to call home for a while now. The trees are tall and dense, forming a rather excellent place to both hide and survive. Being in a forest some may think that finding food would be easy, but no, it's not. Since the virus spread out, it began to kill off the animals that contracted it; they, however, weren't brought back. Not that I know of anyway.

I often look back at the person I was before all of this, quiet and relaxed, also kinda lazy. Back then not once would I have ever seen myself becoming who I am today, stealthy, a hunter, a survivalist... a murderer. Sometimes I can't help but feel that I should miss it, I know I want to miss them, the days where I hadn't a care in the world, but I just can't quite find myself believing that who I was then, was any better than who I am now. I was weak, and now, I'm strong; strong enough to stay alive and relatively unseen, with exceptions of course, for two whole years. Kept myself kicking with nothing but my hard work and skill, so no, I don't think I can ever miss it. These days it's kill or be killed, there's a sickening simplicity to it. Before everything that is now, there was nothing more than fake trust, social construct and money-hungry murderers who would have done anything for a quick buck. I don't have to worry about trusting anyone now. It's just Sheba and I against them, both living and dead.

I skip across a few rocks sticking erect from the rushing waters of a small stream, making my way across to the other side, Sheba hot on my heels. I won't need to look for any more food over the next day or so, as what we'd found today will be enough to last us maybe three days, given I keep to my rations.

I'll usually eat once a day, at night to keep me warm for when and if I sleep. It's strange that after so long in this environment, I barely feel the tug of hunger anymore, it's just a half dissolved nerve ending fighting against all the others to be felt. I guess it's just been so long since I could walk a room away to a cupboard and find something edible at my leisure. I've learned never to take something as simple as food for granted.

Around four months ago now, the VIRF went bust and imploded. I never knew why, I just remember finding my way there after days of travelling and finding it completely eradicated. I was trying to find it for sanctuary and maybe to help with their research. They were scientists that hadn't stepped a foot outside since everything began, and I was hoping, that even though I was no scientist, that I could help. I'd come across things and experienced things, very peculiar things during my time in hell, and having some kind of idea what it's actually like out here, I thought they'd find my knowledge needed.

I had something they needed but wasn't quick enough to get it to them.

I was bitten. A long while ago now, a very long while ago. Two years to be exact. I'd learned that once you were bitten, that was it, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars that was it, you were gone, but, I survived. All I remember is falling very sick, I got the fever, hallucinations and the lot but, I didn't die. I haven't figured out how yet, and I was kinda hoping they'd help me out with that but not.

I wanted to offer blood samples in hopes of a cure, but all I found was rubble and a blue hooded jacket, the sleeve torn from the shoulder.

I'm standing behind one of the trees that slightly hang over the seven-foot drop from the bank to the road a little below me. The roads old, the asphalts cracked in numerous places and grass seems to now be sprouting from said cracks, but it's still a road, and one of the only landmarks around here to help me find my way around. I jump out and grab one of the lower-lying branches, swinging back and forth for a moment before slipping down and landing against the road's surface with a slight tap. Sheba followed her path and meets me down here.

It's getting darker and darker as the minute's tick by, and soon enough I won't be able to see anything at all, I needed to hurry.

There's an aerie feeling following the smoke-like fog that has now begun to drift around us, obscuring the visibility I'm trying to steal back from the dark. It's rolling through the trees and over stones, coming closer and closer, but Sheba and I persist onwards in hopes we don't stumble upon something we couldn't see coming through the cloud.

Suddenly I hear a noise, a voice, and as if to ask whether I was imagining it I look to Sheba to find her ears flat against her head. She heard that too.

People are coming up from behind us somewhere, I just hope they hadn't seen us, or we may be in for a bit of trouble...

I jump from the road and into the smoky tree line, and I hide behind a thick, old tree, not even letting the sound of my breath give me away. I hold it as they approach.

Three men appear from the fog. I can hardly see their faces properly, but they almost look familiar. People I'd crossed one before perhaps? I can't tell.

They're walking in a line, all together practically shoulder to shoulder, which is a pretty smart way to travel so I'll give em that. The man closest to me is holding a machete, an old one with bloodstains wrapping around the blade, a mop of dirty blonde hair sticking up in random places on top of his head, and he has some kind of prosthetic leg, homemade by the looks. The middle man has deep black hair, strong posture, and seems to be flicking a pocket knife in and out of its hold over and over. He looks like he was built for this sort of thing, strong arms, strong torso, I wouldn't want to cross him if I wasn't prepared to do so. The final man furthest from me has shaggy brown hair underneath an old blue hat but isn't carrying a weapon, which in itself was a huge mistake. Is he just going to rely on the other two to get him out of trouble if there was any?

I could kill them all, I could do it right now, it would be easy, but it'd be nothing but a waste of energy seeing as their headed towards another town, a smaller one, but one much more dangerous than the city I suspect they've come from. The place before them is overrun, well I think it is, it was when I was there a few weeks back, scouting for materials. I don't have to waste my time because if other looters don't get 'em, the Risen sure as hell will.

I slow my breathing, almost to a complete stop as they move past my place of refuge, they don't seem to be alert enough anyway, they're just laughing as they move along. I can't remember the last time I genuinely laughed and it wasn't to piss someone off, apart from being a smartass though, I never found the need, it just wasn't necessary.

They pass, and I watch as they disappear back into the fog ahead of me.

I'm about to come out of hiding before I hear slow footsteps, another two men coming out of the fog in the direction of the other three. Are these two with them? If they are, why are they so far behind?

They approach just as the three before had, but these guys are different, they're more alert, more ready for something to happen, and I like that quality in them unless it's targeted towards me.

They're right in front of me. I step. A twig snaps. Fuck.

One of the men, a boy in an old ratty torn up tank top stops dead in his tracks, his friend stopping too at the sudden halt, and they both just watch into the bushes around me, obviously trying to decipher what had made the noise, and whether or not it was a threat to them.

The other boy of the two, a man in a black hooded jacket pulls at his friend's arm, asking him with gestures to keep moving.

"Come on, Josh. It was nothing."

_Josh?_ I think to myself as he nods quickly and keeps walking, the two of them following the others away from me, and towards their most probable doom.

I wait another minute after they're gone to pull myself back up and onto the road, and I continue forwards, keeping as much distance between me and the five as I think necessary.

After another ten minutes or so of softly following the boys in front, I find my place of leave and move back into the trees, leaving the road and the men behind. They will either kill each other or die trying.

We creep further and further into the trees before I find the rope hanging carelessly from the treetops. I follow it with my eyes, and my sight lands upon the triangular wooden platform high up in the canopy, well not too high, maybe fifteen or sixteen metres. I'd built it a while ago now, maybe just before winter around November. It hadn't taken me all that long, and if I remember correctly, the hardest part was finding the things I needed to get it done.

I secure my bag to the end of the rope and then get a firm grip on it with both hands, the rope barely being felt against the callus' of my hands, many days of climbing toughening my skin. I pull myself up hand after hand, fifteen metres into the sky before I pull myself up and over the lip of the base structure I call home. Sheba waits patiently at the bottom, keeping an eye out for anything. I drag the rope and my bag up after I dust my hands off on my black jeans.

I fashioned a kinda pulley system out of old rollers, sticks and rope when building this, giving me an easy way to get Sheba up here with me. I couldn't even bear the thought of leaving her down there by herself at night.

At the end of the rope attached to the pulley system, I have a triangular platform made of sticks and an old net, the whole thing covered over with leaves and what not to look less suspicious if someone were to see it.

I lower the platform down, and after doing a quick look around her, she gets on and lays down, allowing me to pull her up here with me. I have to do this every time we leave or return from doing something, but I don't mind, having to pull her up and lift her downs only kept me strong. If anyone were to see it in the air, it'd only look like a tuft of leaves sitting against the trees. It won't alert suspicion.

I had heaved her up halfway to me when I hear her growl quietly. I look out and follow her pin-point gaze until my eyes rest on two of the five men I'd seen on the road earlier; two of the first three. They're sprinting our way, jumping over logs and branches, rocks and fallen trees. Sheba sinks into her leafy hideout and I duck down to remain unnoticed. Where was the third guy? And the two from after?

It's the blonde one and the man with charcoal hair, they're running from a small group of dead. It's five against two. Why aren't they fighting back? They have the manpower to do so. I can already see the outcome if they don't turn and fight them.

The blonde trips up, his prosthetic leg locking up or something causing his body to skitter along the leaf-litter floor, hitting his head on a rock before coming to a stop. He throughs his head and gaze around to clock the Risen gaining on the both of them and fast. He screams for help, spotting of blood on his hand, as he heaves himself up, trying to catch up to the dark-haired man, limping over to his friend who had stopped in his tracks, now holding out the machete the blonde was holding earlier.

He lunges forwards slicing straight through the head of one before kicking down another and crushing that one with the blade as well.

Without thinking, I grab at a simple bow lying against the old wooden boards holding me up and fix an arrow into place, then I launch said arrow through the thick with dead scent air and watch it plummet through the skull of one creeping up beside him. The blonde's holding another at arm's length with his bare hands, was he bitten? The black-haired man throws his blade at one of the two left making it sink in through its dead eye before abruptly turning and trying to get back to his friend to help. I'd already begun to act though, I launch one more arrow, letting it slide into the final Risen's head, causing the black hair man to quickly glance around in confusion.

_Fuck! Stupid, what were you thinking??_

"Are you okay?" The raven-haired boy asks the other, who shakes his head with sadness. He was bitten? The blonde looks to the raven's outstretched hand. "I don't think so..." he whispers, barely audible to my ears, "I'm done." They're standing right below me at this point, still standing against the tree he'd been held against.

"Felix, you'll be fine." The dark one says to the other now sinking to a sitting position against the tree.

"No, mark... I'm not..." he raises his hand to see a large chunk of flesh cut to pieces and bleeding fresh. He looks down, both of them do, a strangled silence hanging in the air; Felix and Mark; now I have names. Felix reaches into his coat, pulling out a small hang gun and pushes it towards Mark.

"You have to do it."

Why didn't he pull that out when he was being attacked? Maybe heat of the moment memory loss? Had he forgotten he had it at the time?

"No! No, you're going to be fine, Fe. We don't even know if it's a bite! Was it?"

"I'm- not sure..."

Mark grabs at the gun, attempting to take it from his friend in hopes he can't do anything stupid without it. Felix had already pointed it at his head.

"Don't, Fe! Please!"

Both me wrestle for it, fighting for possession of the silvery death instrument until I hear a bang.

I watch the blonde, Felix, slip to the ground, blood falling from his left eye socket, a silver gun falls from shaking hands, hands that proceed to grasp at the hair of his head.

"Shit... Shit, shit, fuck! Fuck! Felix?!"

He slides to his knees, shaking his friends knee softly, a slight sob releasing from his throat.

I guess right now, after everything, he's lucky that Felix's gun consisted of a silencer if it hadn't the dead would be swarming this place within minutes.

I secure the rope holding Sheba suspended in the air, tying it off on a branch. I'd pull her up later. I pick up my silver knife, one with an engraved handle, one I'd received as a gift a long, long time ago.

I cling to a nearby branch and lower myself further and further down the tree, slightly a bit away from being directly under my refuge, a jump from the tree to the ground, hitting the dirt with a solid, quiet thud, one Mark hears.

He turns and makes eye contact with me, fear laced through his thoughts as I begin to rush at him with the knife, I throw him up against the same tree and hold the blade to his throat.

He looks me up and down, his entire form trembling as he does so, an audible gulp passing through the space between us.

"Who are you?" I ask abruptly sinking the blade in a little closer to his jugular. My voice though, causes the quivers coursing through his body to stop, and a wondrous look laced with confusion and surprise cocoon inside his eyes.

"I said," I lean in closer, "Who are you?"

The way he watches my eyes brings back something I hadn't been prepared to remember for as long as I had left. There was something familiar about the eyes, those brown eyes... and the name, and the hair. Wait... fuck.

"Sean?"


	3. ~~~..{Chapter Three}..~~~

Twenty-four months, twenty-four months alone and this is who I find? It just doesn't register right away, I mean, Mark and I, we go back... years. They told me he was dead! Everyone, they all told me that he was dead! I mourned for this bastard, and here he is? What?

"W-wha..?" I stumble on my words, trying to make some kind of sound curve around the overwhelming mountain of memories coming back from the dead where I'd left them. Memories of him and I sitting in my living room playing video games and laughing. How could he be alive? How is this man standing in front of me right now?

I let my eyes slip to the ground trying to comprehend everything that's happening all in this one moment, and in doing so, let my grip on the knife falter slightly.

"Sean?" he asks again.

I snap back out of the whirlwind of everything in my head and focus once again on what's in front of me and I press the knife a little closer than it was before, harder against his skin.

"Sean! Stop, its Mark!" he whimpers, his eyes falling from my face to my hair, back to my eyes and then the hand threatening to cut him down.

"No," Is my simple reply.

"What?" The confusion in his eyes increased in velocity, had he no idea what he'd done to me? What he'd done to everyone?

"I said no!" I all but screamed, my words echoing through the brush and trees. I know I'll regret that later. He freezes once again though, as if a single movement would tip me over the edge and maybe it will. I lean in closer to his ear, my teeth grit together with such force I begin to wonder if they'll break, the force alone was enough to hurt my jaw, so I take a shaking breath. There's a sinking look in Mark's eyes as he scans mine, a look that suggests he's looking for something, or rather, someone. They're still the same damn colour though, the same dark-wood brown, the same damn colour I mourned. I can feel the beginning of tears building in my eyes but I'll be damned if I'm letting them fall, I haven't cried since I lost her... the second time.

I pull my eyes from his gaze and lift the blade further up his throat, resting it just under his chin, and god at this moment I wish I could do it, but I know, I know I can't and it's killing me... I just, feel so weak. How could I after all? He's the man I fell in love with all those years ago. Our memories are flying around my head, hitting every stagnant nerve ending in their path, everyone they swing past. I don't feel those feelings anymore, not after what he'd done, but there's just something about seeing him again that's ripping at me, forcing me into a battle of self-argument, and tearing at my thoughts, my decisions, trying to come to rest on something to do, anything at this point. Suddenly though, my mind just goes blank.

I look into his eyes and lower my weapon taking a couple steps backwards. I don't think I'll ever be able to kill him... not him. I just, wouldn't be able to.

"Sean?" he asks again, the sweat falling from his brow. I stand motionless, "What happened to you?" he whispers watching the deepest areas of my eyes, exploring every secret and emotion I hold back. By the look that spreads across his face though, whoever he's looking for in my eyes, isn't there, he can't find me much as I can't when I try to find myself in reflections.

"The end happened," I reply softly, not letting any form of emotion seep onto my features, I'd come too far to break now.

I back away a little further coming to the conclusion I'd been looking for, and that was that I can't look at him anymore. I turn on my heels and walk away, leaving him behind me. Of course, I'll have to double back later to get 'home', as he's currently standing right underneath it. He can't know about it.

"Sean, wait?" I hear behind me, causing me to turn ever so slightly just to catch a glimpse of him trying to catch up to me, so I do what anyone would do, I run. To my surprise, weaving in and out of bushes, around trees, over logs and sticks and tall grass he can almost keep up, although he'd always been fit. I sneak another glance behind myself and catch him again, still sprinting hard, his breaths uneven and laboured.

I turn again and run up a cluster of rocks set in a formation resembling a staircase, and where they end, I jump out over the rushing water of the deep, cold river below me, grasp a hold of the branch hanging above it, pulling myself up and on top of it, mustering all the balance I can before turning and looking back down at Mark who's standing awe-struck underneath the tree I'm in. His impressed state makes me feel amazing.

"Sean, please!" he pleads breathing heavily, his hands on his thighs as he reaches for oxygen, his check heaving in and out.

I leap off of one branch though and grasp another before I throw myself to the other side of the freezing stream, landing and moving into a roll before picking myself back up and looking towards him again.

"What are you doing?" he shouts from the other side. I can feel the white range rushing through my entire body. How _dare _he ask _me_ that! I grip the knife tightly against the belt to my side and turn from him again.

"Sean! What are you.." I don't let him finish, he doesn't deserve the right. I whirl around and peg the silver blade watching it leave my hand and spin through the space between us before lodging itself into the ground by his feet causing him to jump backwards in surprise and response watching it's still entity. I take this moment of him looking away and disappear. I jump back up into the trees and as far out of his sight as I can be whilst still being able to see him. Escaping every tear-soaked memory and sleepless night, apatite-less morning, every scar that washes over me like a wave of pain as everything sinks in. I will not cry though.

By the time he looks back to where he'd last seen me, I'm long gone. I'm good at that now, creating some diversion and just, disappearing. He isn't a threat to me physically, in fact, I'm almost certain that if it did come down to it, a fight between him and I would only end in me walking away, but emotionally, he will break me... all over again.

He pulls the knife from the distressed soil and sinks cross-legged to the ground into the mud and dirt. He brings his knees up and rests his arms on them examining the knife more closely. I'm going to need that back, but that's another challenge for another day.

I leave him there and make my way back to the platform through the trees, only dropping to the ground once I'm certain he can't see me anymore, going as far around the area I left Mark as possible.

When I'd come down before, I hadn't dropped the rope, so I'll need to climb up through the trees, but that's no big deal. I glance to the area we'd left Felix, but find nothing. Dragged away by dead I expect. There's no other explanation.

Once I'm back up top I remember that I'd left Sheba hanging eight metres in the air after tying her there and disappearing with Mark. Poor thing, she must be so bored.

I look out over the side of the hideaway and down to her, calmly sleeping among the leaves and branches she'd been hidden in for the past two or so hours. She's still ducked down as she was before, except now instead of a look of alertness covering her face, she's calm and tired and at rest, yet still somewhat cautious.

I untie the rope from the branch and begin pulling her back up and closer towards me, and I feel the sway of a now more than likely awake pup on the other end of the line. Pulling her to the top, I tie off the rope and lift again before she jumps off and knocks me down, tail wagging and tongue hanging from her happy little face. She's so beautiful, I love her with everything I have, and she's my best friend. She'll forever now be my best friend, for as long as either of us lives. She stretches herself out and relaxes into a happy sitting position next to me, her tail still happily and quietly thumping away at the wooden surface we're sat up upon.

There's a dark green tarp tied up above us both, and two more lining the side's we don't use to get up through. It's almost warm up here sometimes, well better than nothing anyway, and she seems to like it as much as I do.

There are a couple things I keep up here that I hauled up with the rope, such as a small bedside table chest of draws. It only has two, but two's enough. I keep most of my food in the top drawer, whilst a lot of other things go in the bottom. There's an old sleeping bag that's got a broken zipper lying against one of the tarp-covered edges, an old jumper lying at its head that I'd use as a pillow some nights, but to be honest, Sheba slept on that thing more than me. And last, propped up next to the draws is a crate full of weapons I've found and modified over the past few years, all having a little story of their own to tell, but tonight isn't the night to reminisce over a few tools, there are more important things on my mind.

On top of my draws is an old cup, in that cup, there's a pencil, an empty lighter and a piece of broken mirror. I kept them all for different reasons, the mirror's purpose is to help me keep track of what I look like.

I pick it up and gaze into it. In the mirror, I see my overgrown hair, a faded light green colour through most of it apart from the five centimetres of regrowth at the tops and most of the side. There are little scars that litter my face now, most covered up though, but the beard I'd managed to grow. It wasn't long or anything, just... a centimetres length of stubble that ran around the usual areas and around a quarter way down my neck.

I don't spend too much time on my overall appearance now though, because I'm trying to find something. Trying to find the something Mark had been so desperately trying to find before.

Sheba nuzzled into my side, a happy whimper protruding her body, her nose nudging the side of my neck as I stare into my own pale eyes.

Something is missing, something Mark couldn't find, something he'd never find, as I lost it a very long time ago.

Innocence.


	4. ~~~..{Chapter Four}..~~~

I can't keep a light going during the night just in case someone sees it, so I just sit in the dark and think in the time that exists between dusk and tomorrow's dawn, think and listen to the soft breathing from Sheba next to me. Usually, I'd just let my mind take me to where it wants to go, but tonight I'm trying to change the subject because all I can think about is Mark. How is he alive? What happened that month in two-thousand and thirteen? Had they lied?

April ninth two-thousand and thirteen... is still a bitter day to recall, during a fight happening somewhere in Iraq. Mark had been sent over a few months prior. God knows why he felt risking his life like that was okay, but I guess he'd always been reckless and outgoing. On this particular day though, I was given word that he'd been killed, caught up in a mass of gunfire or something similar.

I didn't know what to do with myself after that, I just kind of went downhill... and fast.

It took me a little while after the funeral to get back on my feet, and try to live my life, the life we'd practically built together, all by myself. I had mourned his death, and yet here he is. Every single time his image flashed through my mind I can still see the casket lying before me, holding what, bricks? Had his family buried bricks? Had they any idea that he was alive?

Suddenly I catch the obvious looming scent of smoke causing me to glance down and out through the trees. I can see the faint glow of flames just off into the distance. Is he stupid? Surely he knows that they're attracted to the light as well.

"Mark..." I grumble to myself, sitting up properly and moving right to the end of my platform. God knows I don't want to see him again, but I'm not the kind of person to let him die over something so stupid as trying to keep warm.

The dead are more active after dark, probably because of the cold or something alike, I've come across a lot more Risen in these woods during the night rather than day.

I heave myself into a standing position and look back towards the glow. Taking the rope in both hands I throw it out over the looming and harsh drop before me, immediately climbing down it after, landing against the leaf-litter forest floor with a slight crunch. I duck and weave through the trees, around branches, over downed logs, pushing my way closer and closer to the glow that hadn't looked quite this far away from up high in the trees. I remain unseen by the one corpse stumbling across the space between me and where I suspected Mark to be.

Peering around the tree stood in front of me I see a small fire built up in the centre of a miniature clearing no more than a few meters wide and smack bang in the middle no one is to be seen.

I slip from the tree line into the open space but just as I'm about to venture a little further I'm graced with a knife narrowly missing my head, now sticking out of the tree no more than half a metre behind me. I don't move, I don't make a sound.

Following the trail the knife would have taken with my eyes, I see leaves rustling on the other side before stopping all together leaving no sign that anyone had been there at all. I squint a little, but still, nothing else happens.

Should I attack? Maybe this isn't Mark after all.

I take in a sharp breath as a hand slaps over my mouth, another pinning me to the tree from behind, I grab their wrist and bend it back pulling the man from the shadows and out in front of me. Quickly I twist his arm behind his back in such a way that with a quick tug, I could break it, and then finally, I kick the back of his knee propelling him into a kneeling position, pull the knife from the tree and hold it to his throat. He struggles to free himself, but I just bring the knife in a little closer.

I lean forwards as close to his ear as I dare before whispering, "Too slow, Mark."

I release him and kick him forwards, the black-haired man stumbling back to his feet before spinning around. He straightens his black, button-down shirt and looks me up and down, taking in deep breaths.

"Fire lures them in, Mark. Light. Are ye trying to get yourself killed or are you just stupid?" I question, driving my blade back into the tree before stepping closer to him.

"I know, and no. I got exactly what I wanted," he states, staring at me as if I were a prized catch.

Dammit! He _was _trying to get me here. How could you be so stupid Jack? You could have gotten yourself fucking killed, or worse.

I sigh. "Well, I'm here. What do ya want?" I ask angrily.

I'm assuming by the look in his eyes, that he's either taking in my words, or wondering how it is that _he _joined the army, yet I can still kick his arse.

"Just... want to talk." He finally replies.

"About?" I show that I'm giving him my full attention asking to proceed with whatever the hell this is.

"About what happened a couple of years back."

"Well, Mark. Why don'tcha let me tell ya," I laugh dryly, a fake laugh that Mark frowned at.

"Around, oh I don't know, exactly three years ago I attended a funeral, a funeral ta' acknowledge the death of Mark Edward Fischbach. He was a soldier in Iraq and my best fucking friend. I mourned for years." I say earning myself a pitiful look.

"Sean, I..."

"I'm not finished," I cut him off with a glare and a growl, "He died, and he will never come back."

"I'm still here, Sean... I can explain everything." He pleads with his eyes.

"And another thing," I cut in again glancing back towards my knife impaled in the tree, pulling it and holding it at my side once again, "about a year later, Sean died too."

"Sean..."

"It's Jack now."

Before he could say anything else I hear a noise a little ways behind him, a kinda low growling moan.

"Shite!" I call watching the large group of dead hurdling towards the two of us, stood in the light of dark like idiots. Mark gave me a confused glance before turning and jumping back a little, seeing them and picking a long stick up from off of the ground, not letting his eyes leave them. He backs up, now standing at my side.

"Well then, Jack," he speaks, "Can you fight?"

I glance at him and scoff leaping forwards and into action, knife in hand, beginning my attack.

There has to be at least thirty, thirty to two... yeah that seems real fair, doesn't it? I kick one down, stabbing its friend in the side of the head, and then bring the heel of my boot down on the fallen one's skull. I catch Mark throwing the stick as a spear, the wood lodging itself firmly into the rotting bones of a head coming towards me as I kill another with a quick backwards movement. I then throw the knife, watching it spin through the air and impale another through its dead eye, Mark ripping his spear from another head as I duck and weave to retrieve my weapon again.

I look at them all again. Have they multiplied?

I feel Mark pull at my shoulder, pulling me away from them.

"We need to go!" he yells.

I take another look at them all, he's right; we can't take them all, not with what we have, not in the dark.

"There too many, Jack! Now!" he shouts again.

I turn to face him and nod as we both begin to take off back into the trees through the foliage, I motion for him to follow me, which he does, following my path back towards the place he'd found me a few hours before. I hear a harsh grunt causing me to spin my head around, still sprinting forwards. Mark must have nicked this arm on a branch, a small trail of blood sliding down his skin.

"Mark! Let's go! Now!" I call back at him as he runs cradling his wounded limb.

I quickly spot the rope in front of me and leap onto it, pulling myself up and quickly as I can as it swings back and forth from the force of my jump, however, I quickly remember that Mark isn't going to be able to pull himself up with his injury as it is.

"Wait there!" I yell. He nods watching the Risen progress closer and closer.

As I reach the top facing a barking Sheba, I quickly pull myself over and grab at the rope once again, my hands aching from the fast accent of a mere few moments ago.

"Mark! Garb a hold!"

He does as I say and I begin to pull with everything I have left after the sprint and climb of my own and just as the dead reach him, I have him just out of their grasp. I hear him let out a breath he'd been keeping to himself as they struggle to reach up and grab him, I keep pulling him up higher and higher.

As he reaches the top ledge of wooden planks all nailed together I grab his hand and pull him over it, his body lying against the suspended floor as mine does, the two of us breathing as if we hadn't felt the air in hours.

What had I just gotten myself into?

Mark sits up crossing his legs and resting his head in his hands, still trying to pull in and steady his breathing.

"Thank... you..." he breathes, watching me now.

"No... Problem..."

Wrong. This is a problem. For so long now I'd only had me to look after, except for the dog, just me. I don't think I'm prepared to be in charge of another human life. I hate the feeling of someone else's life in my hands. It's just a weight on my shoulders that I might never be strong enough to lift, no matter how strong I believe I can be.

I can feel as Mark lays back down on his back, he breaths evening out now, his adrenaline subsiding, he's watching the gap in the tarp above where the sky is visible. I can feel him breathing he's so close to me. I glance from his eyes to his arm where the blood had made its presence very much known.

"Let me fix that," I say, nodding towards the rupture in his skin, standing to retrieve something from my top drawer. I pull out a small bent needle, some medical thread, an oldish bandage and some medical tape. All things that are extremely hard to come by now.

"No. I think I'll live." He swallows, shying away from the needle.

"Yeah, for a few days, maybe a week. It'll get infected out here in the open, and ye will die. When that happens, I'll have no choice but to put a gun to your head so stop being a baby and let me fix your fucking arm," I tell him sternly.

I don't remember talking to Mark like this before, this was the first time, I can tell by the sudden shift in his eyes and change in expression, it surprised him. I raise my eyebrows and he sighs nodding and looking away. I place my hand on his shoulder causing him to flinch.

"What?" I kneel closer.

"Nothing..." he replies, glancing at the needle and then anywhere but swallowing hoarsely.

"In the middle of an apocalypse, and you're afraid of a needle." I chuckle threading the equipment and looking to him. He gives off a small, shy smile and I can feel the slight rumble emerge from his body as he chuckles along with me.

I think back to seeing him with the others on the road whilst stitching him up. How did I not recognise him? It hadn't been that long surely. Perhaps I'd tried so long all those years to forget, that I guess I eventually did. What else have I forgotten? Who else?

I finish the stitches and wrap the bandage around my work after washing away any dirt with some filtered water, now I'm just securing it all with tape. I pat him on the shoulder when I'm done.

He releases another held breath before looking down at my handiwork.

"What?"

"Oh, no, nothing, it's just..." he trails off, the thoughts elsewhere.

"Just what?" I ask, his attention snapping back to me.

"You've just... changed. That's all. What happened after I left? Was I the one who went to war? Or was it you?"

I feel like I should laugh because he'd laced a joke into it all, but, the truth wasn't really something to laugh about at all, and it only causes me to frown. The emotions I'm showing around him are as confusing as him showing up altogether. I'd done so well at packing them all away in a crate... I guess that crate was more fragile than I previously thought. I don't want him to see it... the weakness I'm feeling right at this moment, and I can almost tell that's what he's seeing. It's only been a few hours since I found out he was even alive for fucks sake.

Mark gives me a suggestive look as if he's asking me to tell him something, anything, and right now, with everything buzzing and confusing me as it is, I feel like maybe he does deserve a little bit of the truth.

I sigh and look at him sadly before lifting the sleeves of my hooded jacket, a wide-eyed look erupting from the dark-haired man.


	5. ~~~..{Chapter Five..~~~

At first, he's just staring, not saying a thing, emotions flicking through his eyes like rocks in a blender. I haven't shown anyone before, but I suppose I can make an exception for the dead man. His eyes run along every self-inflicted scar, every patched-burn every ghostly bruise, everything I've tried so hard to keep from the world, his mouth hangs slightly open but only a little. I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been so acutely aware of everything his face is showing. He glances from my scars to my eyes before releasing a breath.

"Your death hit a lot of people hard, Mark," I whisper gently, memories clouding my words, "It just hit some of us harder than others." It's the truth.

He hangs his head in-between his knees, his arms propped up around them.

"They're because of me?" he asks me, jitteriness in his voice that almost says 'tell me I'm wrong.'

"No."

"What? What do you mean no? You just said..."

"I said that your death hit hard, some harder than others. But it was never your fault you died, well didn't die. So, no. You didn't put these here, I did." I state.

"What do you mean?" he questions me again, his gaze grabbing at my own, blue and brown, a mix not usually intended to work out. I don't say anything for a moment as I stare back at him, getting lost in thought, in time, place. Mark's a different man now, but his eyes, they're still the same... unlike mine.

I finally break the little staring contest we'd made and looked out over the forest listening to the dull groans and growls from below.

"I mean, I did this because I wasn't strong enough to do anything else, I was weak," I breathe.

"You're not weak, Jack." I cut him off almost instantly.

"I said I _was. _And like I said before, the boy who gave these to me died a long time ago."

He just nods his head thinking about everything I'd just shown him, everything he'd just been told. Of course, it's a lot to get your head around. I don't mind the silence he's left us in.

After a little while longer in the quiet, I see him take another glance at my arms, his eyes though, this time, don't look sorry, they look scared. He moves back a little when he spots them, the red, slightly inflamed, nasty looking bite marks on my right arm. He looks again from my arms to my eyes ignoring my questioning stare.

"What?"

"You've been bitten," He answers softly, sounding almost like he's having trouble breathing, and maybe he is, he's looking at me as if I'm some monster. He stands slowly, reaching behind himself calmly, his body saying calm, his eyes calling his bluff. He's reaching for the knife I'd placed back on my draws. Is he seriously going to try and kill me? After everything that just happened? I stand up just as slowly so not to trigger him into attacking, remaining in a crouched position as his hand twitches, his fingers are closed around its handle now.

"Mark, I wouldn't," I tell him calmly glancing from the knife to him, and then down to the bottom of the high drop below.

"You'll turn," Mark states sternly.

"No, Mark. Ya don't under-."

Suddenly he throws the knife, which I am gladly quick enough to catch out of the air with my left hand right before it would have come into contact with my head. Mark, seeing this, panics more as I stand up to my full height throwing the knife back down at my foot, the tip sticking the wood.

"They all turn!" he shouts at me, his hands to his face as if I'm going to try something, "if not now, sooner or later!"

"Mark!" I shoot back, the dead below becoming a little more rowdy with the noise.

"Did it happen back there? Back in the clearing?!" He shouts again, almost completely ignoring me.

"Mark, would ye shut up for a second?!"

"When did it happen?!"

"Two fucking years ago!" I scream at him causing a flinch.

"Two years ago?" he repeats in a much calmer state. I breathe out again, a breath I hadn't realised I was keeping in. I nod though walking back to the edge of the wooden frame and staring out into the night.

_I hold her hand for a few more moments, not wanting to believe what just happened, sobbing over her expressionless face. I'm brought back the world of the living though, when I hear something coming from the head lying across from us. Is it still alive? What the hell is happening? I'm so confused right now that I begin to hyperventilate, something that only usually happened during a panic attack, which is one hundred percent warranted at this point, but I need to calm down. I take in deep breaths and release old ones watching the snapping head of the man I'd just killed, or tried to kill anyway. What are they? I mean, of course, I have a theory, but even recognising it as a possible scenario makes me feel like I'm crazy. If though by chance, this is as real as it feels, I've played enough video games to understand what to do._

_I lay her body against the dirt and take the axe back into my hands once again making my way over to the, ahh, the... Zombie? No... it's just, no I can't. I walk over to 'it' and raise the instrument above my head before bringing it down as hard as I can against its face. Blood and something I'm not ready to talk about spills from its dismantled skull and all over the ground before me. It isn't moving anymore now, so I guess I know where to hit for a finishing blow. At this point in everything though, I have no idea what the hell is happening. I look back to my dead parent._

_I stare for a few moments, until I swear I see her move._

_"Ma?" I ask quietly, she twitches again._

_I quickly slide down beside her and lift her into my lap in my arms. I can see her eyes moving behind her eyelids, I shake her a little. Her eyes flutter open and I'm immediately graced with the same blank, milky-white and red stare that I'd met before just a few seconds ago. I gasp and attempt to pull myself away, moving backwards but she, it, clutches my arm in its hands and sinks its teeth into my flesh._

_I let out a scream as I rip my arm away leaving a sliver of my skin hanging from its mouth. I lunge back towards the axe and with one swift, painful, traumatizing swing, it's planted firmly in her brain, and she falls._

"Jack, I..." Mark begins after hearing my story.

"Two years ago, today's the anniversary. The anniversary of her death, of this apocalypse, of yer death." I finish in a shallow, shadow-kissed tone. Mark died exactly a year before her, and him showing up exactly two years later? What are the odds? There's just something about this day that wants me to end everything I swear.

"I'm still here, Jack." I hear his whisper faintly, hitting a nerve.

"I know, and exactly how the FUCK are ye here, Mark?!" I yell getting angrier. I let him look me up and down again before he breaks out into explanation.

"When I was sent over, I wasn't trained to just be a soldier, I was an assassin, a spy. There were complications somewhere along the way and they had to tell everyone I knew and loved that I was dead. I was against the idea at first, until they told me that if anyone knew I was still breathing, they'd track them down, use them as bait to lure me in."

I guess it makes sense, of course, I understand now but... it doesn't change those years of pain I felt after it all, and a simple explanation isn't going to be met with instant forgiveness. And god, there must have been some pretty serious complications.

"What complications?" I press, trying to get as much information together as I can. He looks over at me before turning back to his hands.

"Well, I had infiltrated a camp, an enemy camp. I was playing as one of their own. I was found out, a stupid mistake really, and our side had to get me out of there and stage my death to keep people safe." I nod.

"You know, I would have rather been dead," I whisper almost hoping he didn't hear me.

"What did you just say?" he asks back, a bitterness to his words. Dammit, I sigh before speaking my mind.

"I said, I would have rather been dead. I had to live without you, Mark. I had to live thinking that you were dead. It hurt like hell! So much I would have preferred to have died instead of living without someone I cared about so much! Hell! I tried! Every scar I hold was because I couldn't handle losing you. I lost a piece of myself when I did." I need to calm down, Jack you idiot! He already thinks you're weak! I can tell by the look in his eyes.

We sit here in the silence for a while longer, the air dense between the two of us, neither of us having anything else to say at this point, and we just take in our surroundings. It'll be sunrise soon, I can feel it. I don't feel tired or fatigued but I know Mark does.

"You should get some sleep," I say. He looks up to me as I stand and walk over to the makeshift bed Sheba was currently asleep beside.

"I'm not tired," he responds watching me fix a few things upon it.

"Yeah you are, the sun'll be up in about, five and a half hours? Give or take thirty minutes."

"I'm not, and how do you know how soon till sunrise?"

I think for a second, because I don't know myself. I don't have an answer, so I push the previous subject.

"You may have been gone for three years, Mark, but I can still tell when you're lying to me." I watch his eyes, he does the same. Neither of us look away. It's not that I feel awkward, it's more that I feel obligated to have to look after him now.

I finally look away once again, this particular activity occurring a lot today, and he nods his head slowly.

"You can sleep on that, it's not much, but it'll do." I watch the ground below us to find that now most of the dead have wandered off, the sounds of before subsiding, they've lost interest, there's only five remaining now, I can work with five.

"What about you?" he asks getting himself somewhat comfortable.

"I don't sleep." Of course, I do, but I'm sure he understands that I'm implying that I don't sleep often. And it's true; I'll sleep for a few hours maybe every second night. I usually just stay awake, observe what's happening around me, or I'd go and raid something, which as a matter of fact, is exactly what I'm planning on doing tonight.

I wrap my free hand around the rope, my machete in the other, and tread towards the edge. I can take out the remaining dead and go for the overrun town a little ways out. I'm not taking Sheba, so I'll be by myself, in and out, no problems. I should tell Mark, but what's the point? I'll just tell him what he needs to know.

Suddenly I realise Mark had been trying to talk to me, his voice finally coming back into focus.

"W-what?" I ask turning to face him, the man before me propped up on his elbow.

"Where are you going?" he sighed, realising that he'd finally gotten my attention.

"Out," I state simply. "I'll be back soon."

He watches me with a frown, his eyebrows knitted together.

"Well then, I'm coming too."

"No, you're not," I respond, "I'll be quicker without you."

He seems to understand what I mean as he just sighs and rests his head back down closing his eyes once again.

"Can you at least tell me where you're going?"

I look over at him and his relaxed figure, and then I jump, rope in hand, swinging through the air like I'd been bred to do it, and as soon as ones coming up, I kick one of the dead in the face, cracking its skull with the force. I regain my balance on the sturdy ground and look up to see a shocked Mark peering over the edge, a look of terror plastered on his face.

I laugh up at him before swinging the machete at another and severing its head from its shoulders. I throw Mark a quick salute before running off into the dense bushland, the remaining three hot on my heels.

I'm not sure if I'm trying to impress him or not at this stage, but god did doing so feel good. I remember back when we were kids he'd always be showing off to me, showing how much stronger and faster than me he was, I hated it. Oh how the tables have turned Markimoo, and I intend to keep it in my favour. It makes me kinda happy, I mean, I haven't felt happy in a long, long time, and yeah it's not so much a jump up and down happy, it's more of a 'hey, I don't feel like dying as much now' happy. Whatever it is, it's better than what was before.

I make my way through the trees losing the Risen in the process, because one, they can't keep up, and two, they can't climb trees. I can't see very far ahead of myself in the dark that's still lingering, but I know which direction the roads in. I then follow the road for a good hour before I finally see the outline of a small town in the distance through the foliage.

I creep closer, looking behind myself every ten metres or so just to be sure I'm not being followed. The streets are just as littered with them now as they were before, I've still no idea why they all seem to congregate here; no one comes here anymore. There's barely a square two metres of road without something dead in it. I'll need to be very careful, and I have to go around.

Stores and buildings are bordering the place, and an old church looking building. I know there has to be something here because raiders won't touch the place, too much to hide from.

I came across someone once, in the department store actually, he seemed like a nice guy, genuine, kind, but all kinds of terrified, his little girl was lovely as well. I don't think I can remember their names anymore.

The older man would have been early thirties and his daughter was only a child, maybe five or six years old. They were backed into a corner, surrounded by a few corpses. Once I'd seen them I did everything I could to help them, but it wasn't enough. She was bitten. Her father was traumatized; he couldn't... couldn't do it. He just couldn't kill her, so he cocked his gun, stuck it in his mouth, and right in front of this terrified little girl, he blew his brains out.

Emily. Her name was Emily.

I remember sitting with her until she took her last breath, a few hours it took. She cried the whole time, and then... I put her down when she changed. It was heartbreaking to be a part of, and I'll never forget her eyes, soft brown and green.

I sneak through an alleyway keeping to the shadows, staying downwind and silent, just like always. A few more steps and I'll be right in front of that door, but I'll also have to run across the crowded street and lock it as quickly as I can once I slip inside. After that I can make my way out through the roof, I'm sure this building has a stairwell on the roof.

I take in a deep breath and count to three.

One...

Two...

THREE...

I sprint from my hiding position out and across the road, catching the attention of nearly every one of them, slamming my body into the doors and forging through them closing them behind me. I struggle to keep them closed, a lot of them now banging against them. I use all my body weight to keep it closed though while I stumble to slip the latches closed. Finally though, after a lot of strain and the definite beginning of a bruise on my left shoulder, they're locked, so I move away regaining my breath.

My job though isn't over yet. The doors were unlocked, so there's bound to be something hiding in here, somewhere.


	6. ~~~..{Chapter Six}..~~~

I creep further and further into the un-lit store, there's a chill, and it's making me kinda nervous. I pick up a dented, empty can off of the ground by my feet and toss it to the far side of the store, hopefully grabbing the attention of whatever's in here, if anything is in here at all. I hear the clattering of the can hitting something gripping my machete tighter in my right hand, and then I hear the noise I was hoping for.

The groans carry throughout the entire area, an echo making it hard to pinpoint where exactly it's coming from, and where the hell they are. I soon see something move though, but I can't be sure how many of them there are. Water splashes around my boots as I step deeper into the room to take a better look. There's next to no light so I can't exactly see them properly, but I can sure as hell smell 'em.

I'm just about to creep up behind one when suddenly a noise from outside grabs its attention. Probably raiders, I can hear the Risen getting a little rowdier, angry calls of the fallen spilling through the locked doors.

As quickly and as quietly as possible I take out what seems to be the only corps in here and unzip my backpack sweeping everything I can get my hands on inside, closing it again and throwing it over my shoulder, the harsh weight it's now become hitting against my spine. That might bruise later. I glance behind me at the re-enforced glass doors to find that most of them have left to get at whoever was here now. I need to get out, and as fast as possible by the sounds of it.

I run for the stairwell stumbling on an old broom in the process and slowly open the door making sure nothing nasty is waiting for me in here. Seems empty enough, except a large spider web hanging above the old doorframe; I start to climb the four flights.

I burst out onto the roof and creep to the edge peering overlooking for whom it is that's gotten themselves into so much trouble. It's still dark but out here I can see alright, the moonlighting it just enough to make my heart stop, right now, I wish I couldn't see a thing.

The first thing I hear is the blood in my ears and then Sheba's barking and growling, running just out in front of Mark. Oh god, he's gonna get himself killed! I'm paralysed; I don't know what to do. What am I supposed to do? I watch as the two make their way closer and closer to the locked doors of the store I'm standing on top of. The doors! I need to get down there now!

I burst back into the stairwell and rush down the steps and quickly as I can, jumping around one of the corners and cutting through the centre halfway down, jumping from the handrail and landing with a loud thump. I stumble again as I frantically try to find something Mark can defend himself with, anything, come on come, come on, come on! There! Sitting against a shelf is a set of stainless steel cutlery. I tear the packaging open and rip a steak knife from the cluster of metal before looking to the doors again. There isn't one corps there now. I sprint over and unlatch them with shaking hands, nerves pulsing through me as quickly as the adrenaline and I throw myself against them breaking back out onto the street. They must be backed into the alley the dead are desperately trying to get into.

I charge into action not even almost trying to formulate a plan, there isn't time, I rush to the nearest one. I'll probably die today, I'll die today because of this. I could have been in and out, no trouble. What the hell is Mark even doing here? He should have known the place is overrun! He was here with his group before right? I swear if anything happens to that dog, I will kill him, I'll gut him where he stands. She's my life! My best friend and companion! She's helped me through thick and thin, she helped me strengthen myself, I can't lose her, I won't lose her.

I grip my machete again and call out some kind of battle cry before slicing through the neck of the one standing closest. It feels like everything's moving in slow-motion as I slice and weave, cutting them down one after the other. I throw Mark a mean glare before pelting the silverware over the group and into the alley, narrowly missing Mark's head and I keep stabbing, slicing, decapitating. I've killed maybe twenty by now, but that number won't even make a dent, there are so, so many more. The streets are still littered, now though, their attention's on me.

My eyes widen, the adrenaline seemingly wearing thin as the magnitude of what I've gotten myself into seeps through the cracks in my mind. I stumble backwards dropping the machete from my shaking hands, I can't even hold it anymore, stupid. I watch my hands practically vibrating at this point and then the heard of dead barrelling towards me, Mark stabbing a few as he can with the cutlery I gave him, and Sheba trying to make her way to me. Why did I drop that machete?

I'm backed up against a wall; all I can do is kick them away from me. I stomp a skull into the ground and grab another crushing it against the wall with every ounce of strength I have left, and then another under my foot. Suddenly I hear a clatter of glass, looking down I find the piece of mirror lying there, my own eyes looking up at me. I must have put in my pocket earlier. I bend and grasp it, pulling myself back up and immediately stabbing one in the eye, the mirror piece beginning to slice into my clenched palm. I can do this, I can do this.

"Come on, Jack!" I call to myself launching towards another and repeating my previous actions. I kick another down, jump on its head and stab one more before three were coming at me all at once, and I had just lost my glass in their friend's eye. What do I do? What do I do?? I try and kick again, but instead, I slip on blood and fall back against the wall hitting my head and sliding to a sitting position. My vision blurs. I can't focus on anything until I see Sheba.

Just as one of the dead begins to reach me she launches herself at it causing it to crash to the ground beneath her, and she tears it's head off with her teeth. She leaps on another, but this time she isn't as lucky. Everything starts to move in slow-motion again as it slashes at her side, its hideous claws tearing at her, she kills it still and slowly limps towards me, my body frozen with shock. Not again... not her. I can feel tears in my eyes as I watch her injured body stagger towards me, I know she's not going to make it home today. She sacrificed herself for me, now I might have a chance at getting out of here alive... and she has none.

She whimpers and nuzzles into the side of my neck, I scratch her behind the ear, where I know she likes it most and I smile remembering all the good times we did manage to have... the blood though is attracting the attention of just over half the dead, the rest still trying Mark, Sheba, of course, understands this, she's smart, she's smart and beautiful and god I love her so much... I love her so fucking much.

"I'm sorry, Sheb." My voice cracks as I speak and I pull my hand away from her coat, my best friend limps away from me to the centre of the street drawing the dead in with her. I feel tearing at my heart, not literal, but god it hurts as though it is. I can feel her pain as she's torn apart by the mass of Risen she'd taken with her, torn apart like a piece of meat, I can't look away though, just like Ma.

I'm suddenly shaken from my staring trance by a familiar grip. Mark's shaking my shoulders and trying to talk to me but I can't hear anything for a little while longer, just her. Only her.

"Sean! We have to get out of here now!" he yells again, for the fourth or fifth time I'm not sure. It's like he hadn't even acknowledged her death, like he doesn't even care. The sadness and guilt inside is suddenly replaced with a thick coating of anger and hatred, I stand myself and push him down, my face red with seething power, tears still threatening to spill but he doesn't deserve to see that, to watch me in a time of weakness. I look from him and then back to the pile of dead devouring my best friend, my reason for living. He almost looks hurt as he watches my eyes. I run to my machete giving him one final, anger-laced look before rushing back into the store disappearing from his sight and quickly climbing back to the roof. I need out, now.

I burst back out seeing that there are more dead on the street now than before, walking out of here isn't an option, so I'll need to jump. I carry myself to the edge of the ledge judging the fall before walking back a few paces and taking off at a full sprint.

I jump.

Mid jump I hear Mark yell and I turn to see him jump from the stairwell just in time to watch me disappear. I cling to the branch that I had jumped to and pull myself down the tree as fast as I can and back into the thick forest; the forest that will be a lot lonelier now. I know Mark's going to try to follow me, so I need to get back, get my shit, and go. I can't be there in that tree anymore, and god knows what I might do if I see him again.

\-----

As I lower my full backpack of essentials down with the rope I'd used a thousand times to get up here, I wonder if I should have asked Mark why he was there. Maybe he had a legitimate reason? No... He killed her. He killed her and almost me as well. I've done enough for him. I've saved him from Risen numerous times over the last day and a bit. I saved him yesterday, and I let him live today. He has, throughout knowing him, caused me so much pain and I owe him nothing. Hell, I never owed him anything to begin with! I'm done, done with him, done with humanity. I don't care if I never see him again.

I land on the ground, put my bag on my back and take off. I've no idea where I'm going, I just need to be gone.

I trudge through the scrub and memories back to the road, and from there I walk. The road is long and it'll take me a while to get back to the city, but I can't think of anywhere else I can go. Of course, once in I'll need to find somewhere to hold up. I do remember seeing this one place that might be appropriate. I might find somewhere a little more fortified to hold up more permanently. And again, I'll need to re-stock. There's only so much I could fit in one bag. I might be able to finally get my shit together.

I continue along the seemingly endless road for another hour until I see the same tree I scaled to get in and out yesterday and days before. I make sure my bag is secured properly and I begin my climb, climbing up further and further until I come to the roof of the building Sheba and I had escaped through many times. The stairwell door's still shut the way I'd left it and the warm light of morning is beginning to warm my back, it feels nice.

Walking to the opposite edge of the roof I look out over the city. There are hundreds of buildings all having something else to offer, but of course with the city, comes other survivors, other people and I'll have to fight both to stay alive.

I take the stairs down to the second floor and crawl out the window for possibly the last time jumping back down the side of the bus and then the ground. I'll start from here.

The road is littered with leaves and broken cement and trash all creating a kinda apocalypse aesthetic, I've been glancing at buildings and alleys trying to find somewhere suitable for shelter. I stop outside a small, musty looking building that's positioned right by a fenced-off alley, a metal gate closing it off from the rest of the world, thick metal bars pressed against a boarded up window, old wood peeking through. It's made of a yellowy coloured brick and I think it's only two stories high. It'd be perfect, but anyone with half a brain would think the same, so I'll need to be cautious.

I throw my bag over the gate and climb to the top before jumping back the ground on the other side. There's a door, a door at first I assumed to be unlocked, but I'm wrong. I don't usually need to pick locks but I'll do what I have to.

I jimmy the small lock pick around inside the keyhole until there's a sudden and satisfying click, the door becoming heavy in my hold as it falls open revealing, darkness.

Stepping into the dark with my knife back in hand I look around me, trying to adjust to the new dim before me, I step gently and breathe shallow. Something suddenly shuffles from behind me though and I'm hit with a splitting headache, my vision burs before, nothing.


	7. ~~~..{Chapter Seven}..~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll really wanted the next chapter. Who'd I be to say no?

I can't see a thing when I wake, finally realising that I was conscious again and not dreaming. There's something covering my eyes, but I can still hear fine. Looking back now, it was probably a bad idea to walk through that door, but ahh well, live and learn, right?

After a few minutes of the silence teasing me I hear someone walk into the obvious room I'm being held in.

"What are we supposed to do with him?" A gruff voice asks a probable friend.

"I have no idea, but we can't just kill him," The other replies, his voice a little softer than the one before.

"Well we can't keep him here," a different voice speaks up now. Three people.

"What are we supposed to do then?" the gruff voice ask again, steps vibrating the floor as he paces.

There's a moment more of silence before I feel something touch my throat, a blade no doubt, a sharp blade at that. I immediately tense up, and my heart rate quickens.

"Charlie!" A fourth voice yells, the sudden noise making me flinch a little.

What have I gotten myself into this time? I need out, but I need to figure out my options first. I flex my hands causing a rope to tighten around my wrists. The rope won't be an issue, but the blind fold is another story. I need to know how many people are in here with me, how many people I'll need to fight. I can recall four voices.

"I say we just kill him and get it over with," this Charlie character suggests.

"Charlie, I swear to god, you don't run this group. I do!" the man who shouted before booms.

"I say let the boy speak," the one with the softer vocals says.

I hope they listen to him, 'cause that'll make it much easier to escape. I've been tied like this before. I had no trouble slipping from the binds then, and I won't now. I'm not exactly intimidating which gives me an advantage as people tend to underestimate me.

I hear a sigh, and then the blindfold is lifted and my eyes hit the light, the shapes around me blur and contort, the colours run into one another. I can feel them untying the gag from my face as my vision begins to focus. There are four men in the room with me. The one with the knife, my knife, I assume is Charlie and the tall man in the corner with his arms crossed seems like the self titled leader.

"Who are you?" another tall man asks, his hair receding a little at the top, with a look of disgust.

I simply stare.

"I said," he asks again, "What's your name?"

"Jack," I spit at him as he nears. When I mention my name he backs up a little, why?

"And you are?" I question him right back. No one answers me though, they simply share glances at each other, the leader watching me with surprise.

"What?" Charlie asks, watching their little silent conversation. Still they say nothing, so I quickly take my chance. I jump from the chair I'd been tied to whilst they're pre-occupied in their own little world and dart towards Charlie, flipping him around in my grasp, breaking his grip on my knife and then holding it to his throat. He freezes, as do the others.

"Jack!" my questioner yells.

"I want out of here, with all my shit or he dies," I quickly negotiate, earning a worried look.

"What happened to you, Sean?" he asks again, his eyes sad. What happened to me? How does he know my real name? Do I... did I know him?

"Who the _fuck_ are you?!" I yell this time, needing answers.

"You really don't remember?" he answers with a question. I look at him to say no, the act of answering with a question angering me. He seems taken by my answer though. Should I know him?

"It's Wade, Sean."

I freeze. No. No it can't be. Wade? How? How is he alive? And more to the point, how did I not recognise him before? Why am I forgetting everyone? I can barely remember what my own mother look like anymore. I can only see her eyes... well not _her _eyes, but...

I drop my gaze to the ground, thought dancing through my head, causing the already dull throb to hurt a little more. I look back to Wade and then the others. Did I know them as well?

The bearded man from the corner steps forward and extends his hand toward me, I look at it, but refuse to take it, I simply stare back up at him instead. He sighs and lowers it again.

"Ken," he states. I'm shocked. I almost forgot he even existed. The other man though, I'm sure I've never met before. He steps forwards as well, his fingers entwined against his chest and watching my eyes.

"Do you remember me, Sean?" he asks in a timid sad tone. I shake my head, he gets the picture and steps back, eyes back on the ground.

"And that's Cry..." Ken says for the guy.

Cry? It's all a little too much to register at once. I've just found some of the people I would have died for two years ago, some of the people I used to care about most and yet, I feel like they're almost complete strangers to me. I don't know them, well at least, not anymore. I tighten my grip on the knife in my hand, still held flush against Charlie's throat.

"I don't know any of you," I hiss. They all seem shocked, and Charlie takes his chance. He hits my hand away and pulls my arm so I fall out in front of him, he raises the blade back on me and as he tightens his grip on my arm, his hand slides up taking my sleeve with it, revealing my scars... and bites. He jumps away from me drops the knife in shock and starts yelling.

"He's been bit! He's bit!"

"Shut up, Charlie. You're being too loud," Ken states. His attention turns back to me and his eyes search my arms as I look at them as well. They weren't meant to see this. Nobody was. I already regret showing Mark. They'll think different of me, I'm not weak!

"When were you bitten?" Ken asks me seriously. I don't answer him. I have no need to.

"I swear to god, if this is what happened to Mark..." he trails off.

"Only Felix," I say softly yet stern. He snaps back around, they all do.

"What did you just say?" he asks, stepping closer to me gritting his teeth.

"I said," I start, but I don't finish. He grabs me by the collar of the jumper and pushed me hard into the stone wall. I don't make a noise, or let him think he's hurting me. Now he begins to lift me against the wall. Instantly I kick him away. He tries to grab my leg but before he does I punch him hard in the chest, his breath exiting his body leaving him breathless producing wheezing sounds as he reaches for air. He makes a quick grab for my throat but I block his attempt and jab his throat instead. He falls to the floor unconscious. I take in deep breaths looking to the others in a silent question asking if they wanted a turn, but it seems like a no.

"Jesus," Wade comments, wide eyed, "I thought it was Mark who went away to join the army." His sentence causes me to tense up. Had these guys just forgiven him for faking his own death? For all the pain he caused?

"When did you get bitten, Sean?" Wade asks again, raising his voice ever so slightly. I don't want to answer him. I don't need to answer him. What does he think he has over me?

"It's Jack," I seethe.

Even if I had known them before all of this, I don't anymore. Once this began slates were wiped clean, and nobody knew anybody. We weren't all that close back then anyway, even if we grew up together.

"Come one... Jack," he breathes, I inhale and let it back out again. If they know I'm somewhat immune, what will they do? I guess this is as good a time as any to find out.

"Two years ago," I finally answer. Cry staggers backwards, Wade simply croses his arms over his chest. He thinks I'm lying.

"Yeah, whatever you say, Sean."

"Jack!"

"Jack..." he sighs.

I don't know what to say because there's no real way I can convince them that what I'm saying is very much the truth. It's weird, the overwhelming feeling of needing to prove one's self to others. Just human nature I suppose. But I can't, so why bother I guess. If they aren't going to believe me then that's their problem, not mine. What are they going to do about it anyway? Kill me? I don't really think they'd be able to do it. They were never bad people before, but I guess, neither was I.

I look Wade dead in the eyes and he simply stares back.

"How'd you know about Felix?" he asks instead after a moment or two. I think back to yesterday when I'd helped try and save him, but he died anyway.

"And what about Christian?" he asks again.

"I don't know a Christian, but I was there when Mark shot Felix."

"What do you mean Mark shot him?!"

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Why don't you answer my questions?"

"Do I have a reason to?" I reply coldly.

"I-I," he begins.

"That's what I thought," I state finally. They really have nothing that they can offer me for information, I don't want anything.

We stand in silence again as Charlie makes his way around me and back into the small group.

"Do you know where Mark is?" Wade breaks the silence again.

"He deserves what he gets out there," I seethe angrily. Venom practically dripping from my lips. Wade's expression darkens to an angrier version of what he was wearing a second ago before he speaks again.

"What are you saying?! He was your best friend!" he yells. And yeah he's right, Mark _was _my best friend.

"Was being the key word here," I spit.

"What did he ever do to you!? Why do you hate him so mu..."

"First!" I yell, " he pretends he's dead for three years! He hurt me so much that I couldn't even imagine knowing what to do with myself, so I did this!" I pull up my other sleeve and raise both arms in the air straight out in front of myself. Wade and Cry are both shocked. Charlie just watches on.

"Jack, he..." Wade began, but I cut him off again.

"Lived with this pain for three fucking years! And then on the literal anniversary of both his, and my fucking mother's death, he just shows back up like a lost dog! I saved him from the Risen, gave him shelter. Then I go out on a raid and the stupid bastard follows me practically handing my dog, my only fucking friend, to the dead bastards!" I yell puffing, "As far as I'm concerned, he gets what he fucking gets," I finish. There's a pang of guilt that pulses through me when I think about wishing death upon him. I am so sick and tired of this emotional rollercoaster I turn into whenever he's involved with me.

"Jack, where did you leave Mark?" Cry asks, quietly speaking up from the back. I think about this. What will they do if I tell them?

"I left him back in the town with my dead dog and a butter knife," I reply harshly.

Wade sighs and looks to a groaning Ken who's now waking from the floor. Cry watches my eyes as if he's never seen them before. And I guess he hasn't, not these ones. Whatever happened to his mask?

"We'll leave as soon as possible. We're bringing him back," Wade speaks helping Ken up. "You only mentioned Mark and Felix, did you see Christian?" I can remember seeing the third guy with them, but only the two came back. I shake my head.

"Can I leave now?" I gesture towards the door.

"No."

"What? What do you mean no?! I gave you your answers, now let me leave!" I yell as he holds a dazed Ken up right.

"We still need your help. We have no idea where this town of yours is, we need a guide." I freeze, are they really asking me for favours? Me?

"And what makes you think I'll do that?" I call.

"Look, I understand you're upset about the dog, but I'm sure he had a legitimate reason for bringing it. You may have changed Se- Jack, hell, can I even think of you as Sean anymore? But I know deep down, that you don't want him dead just as much as we don't."

I pause and think. I hadn't even asked why he was there, I just left, just left him behind...

I'll go, and I'll help find him but then I'm done. I owe him nothing, I owe none of them anything, but it's true, I still can't let him die. Not again... Screw you conscience.

"Once I lead you to Mark, I'm leaving. I won't be sticking around. You understand me?" I inform. He simply nods and heads towards the door, opening it and waiting for Ken, Cry and Charlie to leave. I'm about to exit as well but Wade closes the door again and walks straight up to me.

"Look, I understand that you had some kind of feelings for Mark before he left for the war, and I'm guessing he had some similar sort of attachment to you as well. A few months into this sick game, Mark lost his special little friend as well, he lost his dog, Chica. I know that he'd never purposefully harm an animal or put one in danger after that, especially a dog. So if you're anything like the man you used to be, you'll understand why I'm asking you, please forgive him. You weren't the only one of both of you that missed the other."

I stare at him in the moment until he opens the door again and walks out giving my one last glance before turning the corner.

How does he know I liked Mark? Was it that obvious? Does Mark know? Shit...


	8. ~~~..{Chapter Eight}..~~~

Here I am once again walking back down the darkened road, the canopy of trees blocking an amazing amount of light from it, but this time I have four men walking not so patiently in tow. We're wondering back towards the overrun town, and possibly but highly-unlikely, Mark. I hold my large knife in hand, my backpack of things slung over my shoulder, Ken and Charlie are both holding shotguns, a pump-action and a double barrel, whilst Cry and Wade are both holding hand guns, Wade having the better of the two with a 44 Magnum; my 44 Magnum. Nobody's really said much the entire time we've walked, and we've been walking for a while now. I look up to see the once again setting sun through my long, faded, green hair.

"How far?" Wade asks jogging a little to fall in pace with me as I'm walking a few metres ahead of them.

"Not far," I reply giving him the same answer I'd given him an hour ago.

He slowed his pace again letting the others catch up to him before I hear them starting some kind of conversation. God knows what they're talking about, I don't really care if I'm honest. I start to care when I hear a growl though. I freeze completely still and look around myself using only my eyes. Swiftly I raise a hand motioning for the others to fall still and silent, they do. This could mean trouble. I stand and listen some more, getting a pretty good idea of what it is.

"What is it?" Cry asks timidly. I raise one finger angrily asking him to shut up.

After a moment or two of nothing, I hear the crackling of sticks from behind me, and we're graced with a swiftly moving group of runners; the Risen's faster cousins.

"This way!" I yell running down the road as fast as I can followed quickly by the other four. There are definitely too many to take on by ourselves, and these ones are much faster than the others, we'll need to find somewhere to hide and wait 'em out. If we can make it into town we'll have a better chance. They aren't usually much on their own, runner or no, but in a group, especially these ones, they're dangerous. 

I look behind me seeing that the others are nowhere near as fast as I am, so I slow a little for them to catch up. They're just fast enough to keep the distance between us and the dead constant, but for how long? I know I'm fast, a lot faster at that, but I've trained myself to be this way, and they haven't. As they reach my side I can hear Ken and Charlie puffing, a long time out of breath.

"Hurry! We need to be faster!" I yell glancing behind myself again, the dead barrelling towards us. There's so many, I'd almost say more than in the town itself. Where had they come from?

"We can't run any faster, Jack!" Wade gasps from the front of the four.

"Well you're gonna have to!"

We're going to die if they don't try. The group behind, hungry with gnashing teeth and spilling wounds are gaining as these four begin to slow.

"Jack! How-the-hell-are-you-so-fast..?" Charlie puffs trying to keep pace. I almost chuckle to myself thinking about how Mark was able to keep up with me better than all of these guys. Wait. Is that because he joined the army? Is that what I've turned myself into? A soldier?

"Practice," I call after a while. I know were close, the towns just up ahead and around the corner from here.

"Just up ahead!" All the men hear me and I can almost see the relief flood each of their eyes. We veer around the corner and I stop abruptly in the middle of the road. In front of me is another group of Risen, equally as vast as the one coming up behind us if not, bigger. There are hundreds of them surrounding us. 

I begin to panic, I need to get these guys somewhere safe, and god knows I know what I've said but I need to. I look to the tree line, acutely aware of the hoard coming up behind us.

"Get up here, now!" I yell getting nods and terrified stares in return. I stand at the foot of the tree watching the men rush towards me, worn out and tired. I can also see the hoard maybe a hundred metres away. 

I point at Ken.

"You first!" 

I squat a little betting ready to boost him up to a branch, he nods and steps forwards looking the large tree up and down before glancing back to me. He lifts his foot and I place both hands underneath cradling his boot and pushing him up as fast as I can, him latching onto a sturdy chunk of wood and pulling himself up further.

"Now you!" I gesture to Wade. I help him up the same, the taller man getting up more easily that Ken had. I look at them both up there and then to the dead. They're too close.

"Jack, I can't climb!" Cry calls, his form shaking in fear. 

I nod at the two left and gesture for them to follow me. 

"Climb through the trees to that building!" I yell pointing out the one I was directing them towards. I assume they hear me and that both Cry and Charlie are behind me now as I run with the two and a hundred in tow down the sidewalk after narrowly missing two lunging corpses. I skid to a stop by an old car and rip the door open bringing my knife around and stabbing a corpse as it lunges at me.

"Get in!" I push them into the vehicle and slam the door closed behind them. I jog a little further away out in front of the car, stabbing another before hearing Cry yell again.

"What are you doing?!"

I don't answer him though, I just begin my sprint.

I run as hard as I can towards the two in the car, their eyes wide as they see the dead behind me trying to get a handful of me. As I reach the bonnet of the car I jump up, quickly jump up onto the roof and then launch myself into the air catching a higher up branch with both hands. I swing back and forth finally building enough momentum to flip myself over the top of it and land against my stomach. That's probably going to bruise as well.

I slip into the leafy part of the tree and quickly make my way across another narrow branch towards the building the tree had once been planted out in front of back in the day. I climb through a broken window. Landing inside the dusty room I instantly turn trying to get a glimpse of either Ken or Wade, but I can't see anyone. No one that is, until I turn and look into the dimly lit room I'd just thrown myself into. I wasn't expecting this at all.

"Mark?" I question quietly. He's propped up in the far corner of the dark space with his head in his hands and his knees pulled up to his chest. The poor guy looks terrified. I can see him shaking from all the way across the other side of the room. There's a small bag sitting next to him.

At the mention of his name that I'd spoken more to myself than him, the black haired man shifts and lifts his head, slowly opening his eyes as he does. It takes him a moment to recognise me, but as soon as he does his eyes fly open completely and he struggles to pick himself up off of the dusty, empty floor, he doesn't break eye contact. He looks so mad, and yet his eyes are red and puffy indicating that he'd probably just drifted off to sleep after crying. What's he going to do? He's walking towards me quickly, a look of stone on his face, a look I can't read, so I close my eyes and prepare myself to possibly get punched, but instead of a hit to the head, I feel arms wrap around my body filling me with an intense warmth that overtakes my entire being, and it makes me smile, if only for a moment.

After a couple of seconds Mark pulls away and looks down upon me with red, swollen eyes.

"Thank you, for coming back..." he thanks slowly and sincerely. I'm surprised honestly. I hadn't given much thought to how Sheba's death may have made him feel. Had it really messed with his this much?

"I couldn't just leave you behind now, could I?" I try to smile, pushing the truth away as I do so.

"I know you wanted too..." My smile disappears. "But thank you..."

"I brought your groups as well." After finishing this sentence I realise that he was right, I did just leave him behind, and god knows I wanted to as well, and his group weren't so much here as they were scattered around an over run town amongst the trees and in a rusted car. He seems surprised at my words, but nods slowly all the same.

"Jack, I am so, so sorry about her," he whispers to me as I watch his eyes, still broken, yet still maybe a little stronger than my own, "Please just, let me explain?" I watch him with no words, my wordlessness being his queue to begin.

He sighs and nods again.

"I was sitting up in your little shelter with her and about half an hour after you left she started growling, getting all hyper and mad. At first I thought she was mad at me. She pushed the little platform over the edge and jumped on, the rope releasing slowly. Once she and it had reached the ground she darted off into the forest. I think she thought you were in trouble or something," he explains. It makes sense. I hadn't thought of her knowing to do that before. I'd never left her behind by herself, she must have panicked when I wasn't there. I watch Mark still, smiling slightly at the thought of her wanting to protect me.

"I followed her as quickly as I could trying to keep up, and she led me here. We found you, and well, I guess you know the rest..." he trails off sadly.

"It's... it's okay, Mark," I say, giving him a reassuring smile. His head seems to perk up a little and he walks back over to the bag that I'd seen lying beside him when I'd first made it in here. He un-zips it and takes something out holding it firmly in his hand, his smile wavering as he looks over whatever it is, his fingers then closing over it.

"What's that?" I ask looking from his hands to his eyes. He approaches me again, another sad smile etched through his face, and then once standing in front of me his hand unfolds revealing... tags...

"I really am so truly sorry..." another tear falls from his broken browns, his voice cracking with his trembling words, a voice saying more than words telling me there's an onslaught of tears hiding behind his mind he's trying so hard to keep from me. He's so upset it hurts my heart to watch him, but it's all I can bring myself to do, watch.

"Mark?" I finally ask, really asking him to look at me in place of the floor, "Thank you." He smiles a little again, but this time it's so forced it looks like the smile itself pains him to bear. I can see the memories of close pasts floating through his hair, little specks of water and droplets of pain cascading through his teeth as he tries to get out another sentence, something more than silence. I feel though, that I might appreciate his silence more if it means I don't have to see him cry again.

I take the tags in my own hands and watch them intently, my own memories clouding my eyes at the thought of both colliding together; her and the tags. She, of course, didn't have them when I found her. In fact she'd spent months without them, she'd earned them. I remember finding a smallish chain and attaching my father's memorabilia to it, the tags hanging from her neck as they will now mine. I watch Mark's eyes again seeing the necklace of his own hanging from around his throat now on top if his shirt instead if inside, the silver grasping the corners of my eyes. He notices my line of gaze and holds his own in his palm.

"I had my tags on Chica as well," he whispers.


	9. ~~~..{Chapter Nine}..~~~

Mark grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder as he walks back towards the window with me. I climb back through and out onto the narrow branch overlooking the road below, littered with all kinds of nasty. I can see the car and the dead at the door that I'd pushed Charlie and Cry through. I look at Mark who's still standing on the other side of the windowsill and I give him a quick grin. Of course, the look on his face shows that he's absolutely oblivious towards what I'm about to do, which, is probably for the best anyway. I drop ten feet from the branch and land against the Risen-surrounded car roof, the rope Mark throws down landing next to me. I stamp my foot lightly on the old sunroof three times and then Cry pulls the rusted hinge open. I watch down to both of them before slipping the rope through the newly open hole and then pointing up to Mark. As fast as I can manage I pull my knife back off of my belt and jump to the ground, slashing at corpses as I dash through them towards the other side of town. They're following me now, the dead, so the others will have more time to escape. I turn my head to see Cry climbing up the rope and Charlie still watching me from the car. I glimpse at two people standing on top of a roof when I turn back to the front, still sprinting as hard as I can, it must be Wade and Ken. I run harder, pushing myself faster and faster before jumping and sliding across the bonnet of one of the cars barricading the road, the dead can get around, but I don't have time. The group behind me is slowed down ever so slightly, but now, there's more in front of me, the ones that were already here.

I keep my pace sprinting as hard as my legs can carry me towards the outer edge of town. I remember there being a bridge on the other side and underneath there's a river, the drop down though is vast, and I have no idea how deep the water might be, nor how strong. But oh well, here goes nothing.

I can feel my legs burning, my lungs doing the same, fatigue trying to stop me but I press onwards and behind me I can hear the cries of the men I've brought here along with the groans of runners and regulars alike coming up behind me. The loudest of everything though, is Mark's screams, piercing the air and begging me to stop. They're all shouting for me to stop, but I know I can't. I can feel how many of them are behind me and trust when I say I will not be stopping.

"Jack! No!" I hear Mark scream from the window I assume he's still standing in. I keep going and just as I reach the bridge, I jump up onto the railing and then I throw myself over. I tumble further and further down before moving into a diving position and hope to god this waters deep enough to survive.

I make contact with the water, I dive deeper and deeper the light becoming scarce and the water colder the depth I'm at. This is so much deeper than I could have guessed. I slip deeper yet before gaining the ability to slow and start swimming back to the top. I'm down so far though, that I mightn't have the lungs to get me back, I'm running out of air, and fast.

I rip at the current as hard as I can, still tired from the sprint and finally, just before I feel myself unable to hold in the stale breath of before's air any longer, I erupt from the river re-surfacing and begin to pull myself to shore.

"Jesus Christ," I puff as I watch the water that almost claimed my life today, the cold trap I'd just escaped from. I jumped because I knew the heard wouldn't follow, I knew they'd just keep running further and further out of town until they reach housing area a while's way down the road, and even then, they might just keep going. The others though, obviously didn't realise this, and probably as of a few seconds ago, think I'm dead.

I pull myself to my feet and begin my accent up the cliff face of rock and mud that holds the town in place, the town that's now hopefully a little cleaner than before. Getting up and over the final lip of the precipice I lay against my back on the dry, hard ground. Getting up wouldn't have been a problem had my legs wanted to work.

The sky's covered in cloud and angry, the greys mixing with the darker greys and blacks. I stand again, regaining the trust in my legs to hold me steady and begin walking back into town. What? This is amazing! I can't believe it... the streets are empty! That's my job done... wow.

I stroll through the now beautifully clear street before hearing a shout from a building. I turn my head quickly to hear it again.

"Jack!" The voice shouts again. I look to see Cry hanging out of the window I'd left Mark and my bag in before I'd gone swimming. Mark and Wade both suddenly burst out the door onto the street and straight towards me. I back up a little, mostly out of instinct I think, and they march forwards quickly. There's a smile plastered against Wade's face and a look of absolute horror in Mark's eyes. I take another step back before I'm completely engulfed in Mark's warm arms. God is he warm, well warmer than the water anyway. He pulls away from me and looks down to his own, now cold and wet, clothes. Wade's holding my bag.

"Are you serious?" he half questions half shouts at me as I look from his face to Wade's, the grin still sitting against his lips, eyes alive with adrenaline.

"What else was I supposed to do?" I question right back making Mark's eyes widen with disbelief. I stare right back at him.

"Well, hmmm," he starts sarcastically, "I dunno, Jack. Maybe not TRY TO GET YOURSELF KILLED?!" The sudden change in his tone causes me to shiver, his voice as cold as the deepest reaches of that river, Wade lets out a little chuckle.

I watch his eyes still, his brown eyes rimmed red still, his eyes still almost as puffy as they were when I found him. I can still see the underlining panic in them. I answer his with all seriousness.

"Why would it matter?"

Both men gape at me now, and Ken, who's on his way over with Cry, turns around grabbing Cry's shoulder and walks back over to where they were originally. Wade's smile has fallen after taking in what I'd just said. Mark though, looks like he wants to either kill me or cry, and maybe he'll do both.

"I mean, I was close I guess. But that shit doesn't bother me anymore. We're going to die sooner or later, so why not for a reason?"

"That wasn't a good enough reason to die, Jack," he says after the silence had stilled for too long.

"Any reason seems pretty good to me these days, Mark. But I guess..." I think about this for a moment before saying it. I don't want to hurt him, I really don't but right now I just feel so angry and I know I'll regret it later but I let the words out, "That's no real change after what you did all those years ago," I finish, his eyes widen again in shock and he stumbles backwards a little. He knows exactly what I mean, and as quickly as the words had left me, I wanted to take them back. _Why are you like this? He only cares about you Jack and you do this? Maybe you are better off dead. Maybe it's better everyone._

He doesn't say anything else as he turns and walks back towards Charlie, Cry and Ken, and I don't expect him to. It's his trade-mark move when he's a combination of both furious and absolutely distraught. I look from Mark's back and then to Wade. He wants to say something, I know he wants to, but he just can't bring himself to.

I'm done now though I guess, so it doesn't matter. I can just leave, he doesn't want me here anymore anyway. I turn to Wade and nod, taking my bag from his hands, him still just standing and staring, wanting to say something, anything at all, but he won't. I look to the four men behind him, Cry looking to me with fear and confusion, Ken watching on in wonder and Charlie doing whatever it is Charlie does. Mark doesn't look at me, he doesn't even turn.

I do though, I turn and begin to walk, walk away from them, from the town, hopefully back to the city where I can forget about them all, all over again.

\-----

I didn't expect anyone to follow me, but after ten or so minutes of walking down the road by myself once again, wondering where I'm to go and what to do now, I feel someone grab at my shoulder and spin me around and I gasp at the sudden movements of it all. I wasn't expecting anyone to care anymore, especially Mark.

Why can't he just let me be?

I am about to speak but I'm quickly cut off by the rhythmic tune of his baritone vocals.

"Don't you ever, _ever_, say that again!" he says as he grabs at my wrist pulling up my sleeve and holding it out in front of the both of us, his eyes not watching them, but my own.

"These are my fault, god knows I know that much, and you'll never know how sorry I am for it but for fuck's sake, Jack, if I ever hear you speak that way about yourself again, I might just have to kill you _for _you!" As he wraps up his sentence I can't help but fixate on the single tear rolling from his cheek to his chin, the clear, warm, salty sad falling from him to the old road underneath the two of us. I freeze. He really does still care about me doesn't he... But why? Why after what I've said? What I've done? Who I've become? I know full well that I was an idiot before this god forsaken world crumbled, and I'm very aware that I'm no better now than then.

"I care about you way too much to be hearing you talk like you're nothing to any of us," he chokes wiping his eyes against the side of his hand and continues.

"Now, you're going to come back with me, back with us, because I am not, I repeat _not _leaving you out here by yourself. I know you've been fine for this long, and I know that without us you'd be fine regardless, but..." he takes a long breath in before attempting to continue his sentence, tears still glistening around his coffee eyes. "If I knew you were still alive, I would have done everything in my power to try and find you again, so you wouldn't have had to be alone."

His grip softens on my wrist and he slowly lets go, letting it fall back to my side where I gently and slowly roll my sleeve back down over the scars of the past. He then places his hand on my shoulder and tries to turn me back towards town, but I gently resist and shrug him off.

"Mark, you know I'll be okay," I try to convince him, but he refuses to hear it.

"I know, but I made the mistake of letting myself lose you once, and god I don't want to be the one who does it again, especially willingly. I just can't. Please... just come back with me?"

I can see the desperation in his eyes, he cares about me, and it amazes me. I wouldn't. If I were him I'd turn on my heels and leave me behind because even if he doesn't see it I know I'm not worth the trouble... and to think that a few hours ago I was completely, well almost completely, willing to just leave him there to die. The thought of thinking something of the sort bubbles up with the overwhelming guilt I'd tried so hard to push away when I left him.

I need to think. I just need time to think about all of this. I know I need a solid answer for both him and myself, because I can't keep doing this to either of us, it'll just wreck us both and tear us apart. And seeing him cower in that corner? I can't do that to him again.

If I leave, I'll hurt him, I know I will, but he'd get over it eventually right? If I stay, It'll be losing the person I've built myself into over the past few years and I'm not sure if I'm ready to let go of either... I'll fall weak and I'll start relying on other for support instead of just myself. In and out, right?

But... I was so fucking alone, even with Sheba. I don't have her too keep my sane anymore, so what do I do? Nearly every single piece of me wants to just continue on by myself, but there's one small piece that refuses to part with him again... If I stay, I can protect them right? Protect them as they protected me from myself all those years ago. Protect him... god...

I'm still in love with him.

I watch his eyes and let a smile creep around the parts of my head telling me it's best if I just run and I step closer to him, letting him pull me alongside him and back towards the others... I'm to protect them now...

If only my mind was as listened to as my heart.


	10. ~~~..{Chapter Ten}..~~~

I was still in college when I was first informed of Mark's death. I can remember sitting there in the middle of an Advanced English class when I heard my message tone ring out softly, disturbing no one except myself.

'_Sean, I need to call you.' _It read. It was a message from Wade.

I was doing so well in all of my classes actually, and I would usually find myself silently thanking Mark for convincing me to enrol even if he didn't come here himself. He'd always say that I'd do great things once I'm finished, and I believed him after a little while.

I was getting A's right the way through each and every class just to make him and my Ma proud. English was my favourite, next to Computer Science and Technology, and Sociology.

_'Right now? Really Wade?' _I had sent back making sure that the professor wasn't watching me with my phone out.

College wasn't as tough for me as it was for a lot of other students because I'd learned time management. A hell of a lot of people failed their classes because they couldn't figure out how to manage themselves properly, I was different. They couldn't keep on top of work, others didn't hand in assignments on time which earned them low marks, or sometimes, if handed in late enough, a dead fail. Procrastination ran wild through college.

_'It's really important.'_ He sent back.

I was ahead in my classes actually. Usually I'd be asking for extra work or doing extra study on the side in my free time. Sometimes I'd stay in the library and complete tasks such as research enquires and essays. I had friends of course that I could have spent that time with, but I knew what I needed to get done and where I wanted to be. Along with, of course, who it was I was working so hard for.

He would have been so proud of me.

_'More important that my education? Haha.' _I reply quickly as the professor was facing away.

I had a computer at home, although it wasn't very fast. I didn't need it to be, I just needed somewhere to work from home. I'd written essay after essay on that old thing. I couldn't research anything really though, as Mark and I hadn't payed the bills in a bit and had to live without the internet for a good while. I was working on saving enough to complete my payments.

_'Yes.' _was all he said. The message was so simple and out of character for Wade that at the time it almost threw me off a little.

I sighed though and stood from my chair, walked around my table and towards my professor. She was talking to another student so I waited for her a little. When she finally turned around I asked if I could leave for a few moments to answer an important phone call, and of course with me being the student that had already completed assignments others were only just recognising as needing to be done, she said yes.

I had made my way out into the hall and clicked the small call icon sitting next to Wade's name. It rang twice before he answered.

"Wade, this better be important. I haven't got long what's up?" I groaned waiting for him to ask something inevitably stupid.

After a few moments of nothing though, I began to wonder what was actually going on. What had happened?

"Wade?" I question softly through the receiver, looking at my screen making sure he was still on the line.

"S-Sean..." he croaked out. He was crying. Why on earth, I asked myself, is he crying?

"Wade! Why- what's happened? What's wrong?"

Wade never cried. I had never seen him show that emotion before now, not because he was heartless nor incapable of showing it, but because there had never been a reason for him to. But for some reason, there was at that moment.

"M-Mark, Mark's..." he trailed off again.

"Mark? Mark's what Wade? What's wrong with Mark?"

By this time I had so many scenarios rushing through my head that I was making myself dizzy with the possibilities. He was at war, and when someone calls crying about him there can only be one real...

"Oh god..." I whispered, my voice cracking towards the end.

I didn't know what the right thing to do in that moment was, so I did the only thing I could think, I ran. I ran from my classes leaving everything in its place. I ran for my life, I ran for Mark's. I didn't even need to hear what else Wade had to say because I knew. I didn't need clarification because I knew. I didn't need someone cracking over the phone telling me that my world had just ended, because I knew.

I failed college that year, I failed all my classes, and I never went back for my second. Along with the "self-help" and depression and whatever else was bugging me at that point in time. Mark was gone, and so was I. That person wasn't me, I am smart, and organised, and punctual, and high-spirited and happy. Well... I guess... I was.

I never went back, even though some said it might help. I never went back because the one person I was doing it for, didn't need me to anymore.

Mark and I walk back to the small town. It's a lot smaller than most places usually are. It only has a maximum of maybe fifteen buildings. The residential area down the road a way is where I'm assuming everyone who worked or congregated around here used to live. It's empty now though, the place down the road. I checked it a while back after finding this. There's a large fence that holds the place together, kinda like a strong hold. There's spots now where the fence is down and there's holes in the wire but it still does its job.

The other men are still stood in the still surprisingly empty street, Charlie kicking a corpse as we round the corner once again and re-enter the area.

"Jack!" Wade calls out jogging over to the two of us and laughing to himself, grinning as he stops before us; the gigantic guy's always smiling about something, well at least, he used to be anyway, "You staying, man?" he coughs gently.

I don't answer right away. Mark looks down at me and I look right back through him. I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I watch the glimmer of hope dance across the browns of his eyes. I never did appreciate that colour enough.

"I guess so," I answer finally. Looking around myself I take in the area, breathing in its potential. We could quite honestly be onto something here.

"What do we do now then?" Cry mumbles stepping over to join the three of us. I glance to Mark again and then back to Cry.

"I have a small Idea I think?"

Mark waves Charlie and Ken over before turning back to me and watching me as if he's asking for me to share what's on my mind. What is on my mind exactly?

"See the store over there?" I ask pointing towards the large, but not loo big building standing taller than the one next to it. They all nod giving me a sign to continue.

"I think that, that it might be time we make a place of our own," I suggest looking around to assess their thoughts from their eyes, trying to read what they're thinking. Actually, they all seem pretty down with the idea, all that is, excepts Charlie.

"Wait a minute..." he steps in, "We barely even know this guy. Why are we taking suggestions from him? In fact, why is he even here?" I'm starting to believe he had absolutely zero idea as to how I tie into their pasts. I guess no one would have really told him.

"They know me," I say earning myself a furrowed expression and a raised eyebrow, "and if you keep acting like a douche, you won't be able to forget me." I grit my teeth at his cockiness. I'm in nowhere near the right mood to be dealing with his shit right now.

"Really tough guy?" he seethes. Did he not notice I just saved his fucking life? Did he have his eyes closed the whole time or something?

"Charlie, back off," Mark puts forwards taking a slight step closer to him.

"You gonna make me big guy? Hmmm?"

"Charlie!" Ken barks from behind the three of us.

Charlie's unfazed by Ken though as he steps closer to Mark. I swear if he fucking touches him, I'll rip his throat out.

Charlie turns and jumps Ken as the bearded man attempts to pull him away from us. Charlie gets on top and begins to punch into Ken's face repeatedly. Cry's taken by what's happening and begins shaking causing Wade to grab him by the sleeve of his shirt and pull him away from the tussle on the ground. Mark quickly reacts and pulls Charlie off of Ken as he lies there bleeding from both his nose and mouth.

"Get the fu.." Mark doesn't get the chance to finish before he's hit with a swift, heavy punch from the angry man he's holding away from his friend. I hear a crack. _Did he just break Mark's nose?_

Suddenly the atmosphere's hotter, I can almost breathe in the fumes of fire as a fiery rage pulls itself through my body causing me to swing one deadly, fire-ridden fist at Charlie's face. His body slowly slumps to the side. I've knocked him out cold. _One punch... Not back, Jack._

Mark stands from the ground with my help taking in what had just happened, watching Charlie's unconscious body against the cracked tarmac next to Ken who's also pulling himself to his feet. I extend my arm to Ken as well helping him from the ground.

"Nice punch, Jack..." he says looking down over Charlie, who's actually looking quite dead.

"Where did you find this guy?" I asked in amusement as I watch him as well before turning back to Mark. He's staring at me as I do.

"T-thanks," he breathes out scratching the back of his neck before patting his fingers under his nose assessing whether he's bleeding or not.

I nod and smile to him and in return he smiles back. His smile's different than other's I've encountered over the past few years, it's a total 'Mark' smile. Others would be using theirs in cunning, or an attempt to frustrate or deceive, where as Mark's is genuine and happy and pretty. He's always had a pretty smile. You'd never find another like it.

"Actually, we came across him a few weeks back. Apparently his group was murdered or something along those lines. We'd honestly discussed a few times whether we'd thought it was him who killed them in the first place, there's always something off with him. Christian found him, he saved him," Ken explains. I've heard Christian's name before. He was the other guy with Mark and Felix on the road right? Yeah, that's him.

"Speaking of, what happened to him?"

Ken glanced at Mark, Wade tuning in more looking for an answer.

"Felix and I lost him, they tore him apart... and then I lost Felix." There was a still silence in the air, thick and sickening. I didn't like it as much as I would have used to. Usually, silence meant there was nothing out there trying to kill you, but here... it just makes me uncomfortable.

"I found Jack though," Mark pipes again. Wade and Ken both nod smiling over at me.

"And we're glad you did. I guess then, he kinda found us," Ken adds.

"Was it really a fair trade?" Cry whispers. What?

"Don't mind him," Mark speaks softly into my ear, tingles running through my blood, my hair standing on end behind my neck, "Felix meant a lot to him, he doesn't mean anything as it sounds." I just nod, smiling apologetically at the man, he smiles a little back.

"So, what are we going to do with him?" I ask kicking his leg slightly.

I look up to find Mark still staring at me, but as he clocks me noticing him, his cheeks flush a pink before he averts his attention to Charlie. What's he staring at? Nothing's changed over the last twenty minutes, so why's he staring now?

"I don't even care..." Ken grunts. His answers music to my ears though. There's a lot I wouldn't mind doing to this guy, such as hanging himfrom the back of a car and driving off with him dragging across the ground. If he had have hurt Mark any more, or any of them for that matter, I might have had to kill him right now.

"I mean, we could always drop him into the river..." I suggest mostly to myself. I get a slightly amused look from Ken, and a giggle from Mark. I know which reaction I think I like more.


	11. Chapter Eleven

There's no way he can stay with them, I won't have it, and he has to go. In deciding to stay with them, I swore to myself that I'd keep them alive. After losing everyone once before, I still know how it felt, and god, I'll do everything in my power to stop that from happening ever again. I'll die for them if I have too. I think one of them already knows that.

The guys and I decide after a long debate, that the best thing to do is leave him behind. Wade and Cry, having good hearts, are very reluctant about how we've decided to go about it though, and I guess I understand why, but he's only getting what he had coming. The rules of humanity have changed now, people and morals aren't what they used to be, and Wade and Cry will just have to get with the now. Charlie's currently hog-tied at our feet, the five of us left figuring out how this'll go.

We're going to keep him tied, find a vehicle, take him as far out as we can, and then dump him. We haven't decided what'll happen once we dump him though. Let him live or kill him where he lays.

I agree to go with Mark in search of a working car whilst the other three stay behind and watch Charlie, maybe getting started on boarding up a few windows, set a few traps, a couple trip wires maybe, cans with rocks in on strings.

There's windows all along the bottom half of the store so they'd work on those, the second story won't be much trouble. We'd decided to try and take the entire town in time. We could work our way out from the store and to the small buildings surrounding and eventually properly fix up the fence and barricade the whole thing away from the outside world, completely zombie-proof everything we can and finally try to feel, almost, safe as we sleep at night.

"Where are we going to get the car?" Mark asks around five minutes out from the city. I honestly don't really know. There's bound to be cars in the city. We can collect fuel cans and siphon petrol from the tanks of other cars, hoping there's any left and it hasn't evaporated by now. We're also looking for supplies to improve home base. I think I remember there being a hardware store somewhere close to the east side, which is where we're getting in from, I may also recall a car yard not far from that as well.

"There's bound to be something in here," I reply softly. Mark nods his head and keeps strolling alongside me.

"Hey, Jack?" he asks after another few minutes or so.

"Yeah?"

"How did you manage to knock him out? With one punch might I add," he questions.

Even after spending most of the walk thinking about that myself, I still haven't a clue. I didn't really go into it thinking I was gonna do that, I just felt so mad, I can still almost feel the anger that was brewing inside my head when he'd hit Mark. It felt to me for a split second like I was going to get hurt myself, I felt that if Mark got hurt I'd be the one suffering the blow, no matter how rough and different this apocalypse has gotten me, I couldn't at that moment even imagine seeing him in pain and doing nothing about it. It makes me wonder how I was, in the beginning, so willing to leave him alone in that place to die... I guess I was just a little messed up considering, but after hearing his side I couldn't help but forgive him almost immediately. It wasn't his fault and I knew that now. Sheba died because she was protecting me, which makes me think that in a way, those few years ago, Mark 'died' because he was trying to do the same... Maybe staying with them wasn't such a good idea after all...

"I dunno," I answer after opting for the shorter version, "I was just mad, and I swung I guess."

"Well," he chuckles, "remind me not to get you angry." His smile falls, "Well... again."

We continue forwards and around the final bend in the road, its time now to head up through the trees, the road'll only take us further away from where we need to be now, time to leave it behind. We'll need to climb the tree up and into the building; I'll take lead once again from there. Hopefully there aren't any setbacks during this operation and we can get back to the other as soon as possible. In and out.

Once we reach the base of the tree that'll be acting as our ladder I take a firm grip on the bark and pull to check its sturdiness. I'm about to bring myself up when I think to Mark. I look beside me and see his eyes firmly planted against the forest floor just as the trees roots are. He looks almost embarrassed about something.

"You alright, Mark?" I ask him after catching him lost in thought. His head quickly shoots back up and he watches me instead of the ground.

"Ahh, well, actually... no, not really. I don't ahh... don't know how to, climb?"

"Oh."

The poor guy looks like he's just been told he isn't pretty enough to compete in a fashion parade. But how are we going to get in now? Every other way in I know of is either too risky or completely blocked off, pretty much making them impossible. Maybe he'd like a quick lesson?

"I guess I can teach you how," I suggest mulling over our options and thinking to myself. I watch him again as his expression seems to change. I'm not sure what he's thinking but he seems pleased with my suggestion.

"That could work." He perks up. His cheeks are slightly pink, tinted with embarrassment as he watches the ground again. His eyes meet mine quickly before glancing straight back down again. I can see his blush intensifying and running over the edges of his cheekbones; I can feel a similar affect upon myself.

I quickly look away again, I must have been staring unless of course, he was... No...

I take in everything around us a little seeing what I've got to work with. Seeing as we're in a forest I can teach him just about anything he needs and or wants to know.

"I could teach you a lot of things," I find myself saying after a bit, "What would you like to know?"

He looks back up and into my eyes as if he's looking straight through them and directly into my mind, he's always looked at me like this, it's just another thing that makes him Mark. His brown eyes are filled with the same curious spark that got us into trouble so many times growing up. In that moment I can't help myself and I give him a wide grin and stare right back. There's nothing uncomfortable about this to me at all right now, and I myself am quite surprised at my own actions. This surprise however subsides when I wonder how this little staring competition's making him feel. I look away again and let my smile fall because of course I'm making things weird between us, and god knows we don't need this right now. I frown at the thought of making him uncomfortable as I watch his lips dip into a frown of his own out the corner of my eye, but I choose to ignore it, and obviously so does he.

"Well," he replies finally, "what is there you can teach me?" My pupils connect with his again and I begin to mull over all the possible strategies and other things I can show.

"Hmmm, well, I can teach you to hunt, to climb, run, properly blend, to dodge, I mean the list kinda goes on. I'm guessing though that since you were in the army and everything that you've probably got a pretty good idea how to do everything I could possibly suggest..."

"Actually, the only thing out of everything you've suggested is run," he laughs. The childish glimmer that runs though his eyes reminds me of the feeling I get when I fly, and suddenly I'm hit with a thought and I can almost feel my eyes light up.

"I can teach you to building jump," I whisper almost just to myself.

"Building jump?" he asks, "What's that?"

And just as always, he's heard me anyway. I'd almost forgotten how keen his hearing can be when he wants it to be. He could literally hear a packet of chips being opened through four walls, the sound of a stereo on full blast and a building demolition with TNT and the whole works next door to his room.

"I do it a lot. It's a really handy tool to get out of places and situations fast."

"What do you do?"

"Pretty much what the title insinuates. I just jump from rooftop to rooftop trying not to fuck up and fall to my death. When you're up there though, Mark, and you're jumping through the air it's like nothing you've ever experienced in your life, when I'm up there I'm nothing more than completely and utterly free... I feel like nothing can touch me and that even gravity'll have a hard time tearing me back down to earth. It's like a drug, and once I finally come down my hearts already pounding for another hit, and so I jump again..."

I realise that I'm rambling on about nothing and quickly shut my mouth in apology; Mark though gives me a look I find to both cause me to beam and blush all over again. His lips curl into a beautiful smile and his eyes... don't even get me started.

"What... Sorry, I just..."

"Don't be sorry," Mark chuckles, "Why'd you stop?"

"I just don't wanna bore you with it all." I let a sigh escape and wince at my own stupidity.

"Bore me? No, no, Jack. I love hearing you so passionate about it. Do you even know how hard it is to find something to feel so strongly about anymore? You seem like you're genuinely in love with the feeling of being up there, and the way you explain it like, wow. God, it makes me want to feel it like you do."

I smile at him. I am so going to teach him. You'll feel it too, Mark, don't you worry.

"Well don't even second guess it, because teaching you is now a priority on my list of things to do," I laugh, "But first, I think we should start with something a little more basic and at ground level."

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"What ever happened to being afraid of heights anyway?"

"We've all overcome a lot."

He gives a curt nod and looks back to the tree.

"Okay, so first you need to get a feel for what you're climbing," I announce pointing to the tree, "so test the bark, the thickness of the branches."

He strolls over and grips a chunk of hard bark between his finger tips pulling and squeezing at it slightly getting a good idea of what he's working with here.

"It's thick, and tough," he states calmly as he knocks his fist against the trunk causing it to let out a slightly echoes thump. "I also think it might be kinda rotted on the inside though."

He looks up at the lowest hanging branch which is still a little higher up than he is, maybe a couple feet, and examines it. "It seems stable enough." He announces after a few seconds more.

I nod my head and gesture for him to move out of my way. He does and stands to the left of the tree some.

"What I'm going to do will look a little tricky, but it's really not, I still don't expect you to get it perfect first try so don't worry if you don't, okay? You'll get it eventually though, I promise." I move backwards a few steps. "Also, watch how I move, you'll need to replicate it." I laugh at the look of bewilderment on his lips.

We're standing on a slight hill so moving backwards too far would only tire me out trying to run up it for too long.

I run forwards now though and jump at the base of the tree planting my foot against the hard wood and kicking myself up and backwards, I grip the branch that was before hanging high above Mark and myself. Once I have a firm grip I swing my legs backwards and forwards trying to drag enough momentum out of myself to put the branch I'm holding in front of me as I swing so I can land against it on my stomach. I do so and lift myself up now crouching on the branch balancing myself ready to help Mark if he happens to need me too.

"Okay," I call down, "You're turn."

Mark nods and copies what he'd just witnessed me do. He's so close to getting the branch but he misses by maybe twenty centimetres. I launch myself down out of quick instinct and reflex and grip at his hand. I catch him. Now though I'm hanging upside down by my legs as if I'm hanging off a damn trapezium. I look back at my branch and then down to Mark again. He looks worried, so in an attempt to ease his worry, I smile.

"Okay," I laugh, "Let me think."

I look around myself looking for any way to get the man hanging off of me up where I am now. This one's the only reachable branch from here apart from the one above me so that rules out trying to swing him to another. I pull him up the slightest bit testing his weight against my upper-body strength trying to decide how best to get his ass up here. Finally I decide, but he isn't going to like it, he'll be fine though, he won't be hurt a bit.

I begin to swing myself backwards and forwards again.

"Okay, Mark," I begin, "when I do this it's so important that you grab this branch okay?" I tell him. Hanging here seems to be putting him in pain though because he winces as I swing the both of us, ne nods all the same though.

I swing him harder and harder feeling my legs begin to slip from the branch and with one final swing and one huge heave I bring us both up high enough for him to let go of my hands and grab the branch and he does so with little difficulty. Well that's what I see anyway as I feel myself tumbling back towards the ground. This is gonna hurt.

Swinging Mark up shifted my weight off of the branch, and in order to bring him up, I had to go down.

But I already knew that before I even started to swing.


	12. Chapter Twelve

I keep my eyes closed shut when I come too again. God my head hurts, just about as much as the sharp pain running like water down my ribs and back. I must have landed a little harder than I thought I would because in no way at all had I expected to knock myself out with the impact. Still though, I can't have been out for anymore than a few seconds, a minute tops.

I can hear my name softly connecting with my senses as it's thrown through the air. Oh, I almost forgot about Mark... Well this is embracing.

"Sean? Jack!" he calls down to me, "Jack? You alright, buddy?"

I open my eyes for a split second before immediately closing them again and cussing under my breath as I watch the intricate white and black patterns and spots dance along the edges of my vision, the sun still attempting to pry its way underneath my eyelids, causing my head to throb a little harder than it already was. I raised my left arm draping it against my stung eyes before rubbing small circles against them with my rough fingertips. Letting out a soft, disgruntled groan I try to sit myself up, but immediately regret that decision as well.

"Jack, you okay?" Mark attempts asking again.

I wave my hand in the direction of his voice dismissively and try to sit up once again after a quick, half-hearted breather.

"Are you okay?" I ask him as I'm finally up-right cross-legged.

"Me? Am I okay? Dude you just fell like a hundred metres!" he calls back down.

It was really more like five or six.

"Are you okay?" I ask again. I just want a straightforward answer. I'm quite aware I fell actually, Mark. Wanna point anything else out? Wanna tell me my eyes are blue?

I hear him sigh from up above before saying, "Yeah, Jack. I'm fine."

I sigh inwardly to myself and make another attempt at opening my star-struck eyes and look up at him. He's perched on the branch holding onto the one above his head to keep balanced. He looks fine though if anything.

I carefully pull myself together and back to my feet shaking my arms out a little. There's no point in putting this off, and god knows there isn't another way in.

"Can you, ahh... You mind scotching over to the left a little, my left that is." I ask watching him from the leafy ground. He seems confused before realising that I was going to try jumping back up.

"Are you sure you're up for this? I mean, you must have hurt yourself."

"Do you see another way?"

He pauses looking around in thought and the looks back to my sighing before moving over to the left.

I jump up and down slightly trying to pump myself up for this and I shake my arms out again, and then I take off. I run at the tree and kick off just as before jumping upwards and backwards repeating myself as closely as I can trying to re-invent the whole process with the shock of my fall still dribbling through my body. I grip the branch and hang there for a moment trying not to cry out in pain, because of god this hurts so bad. My arms shake as I try to lift myself up, but I just can't. I'm about to try again when I feel Mark's hands wrap around my wrists and begin dragging me through the air and up to where he is. The pressure on my arms still hurts like a bitch, but I know this is much better than pulling myself up.

Once Mark's lifted my up and over the branch he keeps a hold on my wrist until he sees me glance from him to it and then back again. A look of embarrassment throws itself at him but the look quickly subsides as he lets go. I laugh at his general embarrassed nature before manoeuvring around him to demonstrate the rest of the way to the building; where to put his feet, what branch to grab and so on.

Once we're safely against the cold, damp, stone building, still high in the air backing our way across a not-big-enough-to-hold-us-both branch I lift myself, arms and sides still trying to destroy me from the fall, up and into the always-open window. I gently plant both feet on the ground, take a quick glance around the general, dark area and wait for Mark to follow me up. It's taking him a little longer than it should, and I've already began wondering if he'd fallen to his un-timely death, so I move back to the window to see where he's at. Next thing I know, I'm lying on the dusty, shadow-spotted floor with Mark sprawled out on top of me. He quickly jumps to his feet and extends his hand down to me. He's laughing now.

"What's so funny?" I ask in genuine confusion.

"The colour of your face," he chuckles out, the words tumbling across the space between us and painting my face a darker shade of red.

As he speaks the colour intensifies and I can practically feel the red paint against my nose and cheeks. Oh god. I ignore his hand and help myself back to my feet clenching my jaw as my bones ebb away inside me.

He seems almost hurt by this, but there's no way I'm letting him make this flush any worse.

I shake my head upon standing up just to get some cool air flowing across my skin. I glance back towards Mark and grin making him perk up at my actions.

I move towards the stairwell. Whatever injury I've gotten, it isn't as bad as it could be, and in all honestly considering, I got off pretty easily. I can still move perfectly fine, well, somewhat perfectly if I hide my slight limp, that'll go away though, just need a little time. The only thing that's actually hurting me is my head, but it's probably nothing serious.

Sliding the door open I'm stuck by the fact that I can see something else in here. It isn't human, nor Risen, but its, something else. I've never seen something like this before. Is it a... dog? Whatever it is, it'd just noticed me and begins to snarl at the two of us. How the hell did it get in here?

Just as I'm about to close the door on it, the 'thing' lunges at us both missing me and landing against Mark's chest holding him against the ground. The impact of the two causes a puff of now un-settled dust to whirl around them. Mark wraps his hands around it's throat trying to put a little more distance between his face and it's wet teeth.

I, as I always am in important situations, am stunned into stillness. What can I even do?

As quickly as I'd zoned out though, I'm back again, and have a small, probably crazy idea. I throw myself at the 'thing' and bowl it off of Mark onto the ground beside him, dust still rushing about much as water might when disturbed. I have it pegged to the ground with my left hand and with my right I reach around myself to retrieve my knife. I pull the blade from its hold, tear it away to above my head, and then ram it back down into the monsters skull. I hear a terrifying yet satisfying crack before its body falls limp. Well I'm glad it didn't make it difficult at least.

Mark's watching me as he's still lying against the concrete when I finally break from thought. You were just standing there for god knows how long, for ages! You idiot! He could have been killed!

"Sorry about that, ahh, I just kinda... froze up I guess..." I explain carefully.

After giving my explanation though, he just continues to stare. He seems to do this a lot actually.

"What?" I ask worrying if he's completely appalled at my lack of being able to help quickly.

"Thank you," he breaks finally, "You didn't have to do that. You're already hurting enough and don't say you aren't because I still see it."

What? Thank you? I guess I saved him but... god I took my damn bloody time.

"That's okay," I ensure.

"No Sean, not just today."

I wince at my name and freeze all over again. What does he mean? Maybe he means how I brought the guys back, or when I punched Charlie.

"... It's Jack."

"I mean back before all of this. Back when it was just you and I and I fucking ruined you, back with just us sitting on the floor and playing videogames, back when we'd steal cookies from the jar in my kitchen before dinner... back when you loved me..."

...I'm stunned, completely and utterly stunned. How could he know that? How long has he know that? Did someone tell him? But the only person I ever told was Bob...

"What- ahh, what, do- do you mean?" I ask hoping that maybe he meant in another way, any other way. How many ways are there? Can I just make one up? But of course, I've never been that lucky.

"You know what I mean," he sighs, "I was with Bob the day I left, the day I was deployed to go fight. We were just sitting there, the both of us drinking in the last sips of normality either of us might feel again. I decided I'd ask him something that I'd been thinking about for a long time, something that meant a lot to me.

"I asked him whether there was anything I should know before I left, because there was always the possibility that I wouldn't make it back to find out for myself. I guess I just wanted no secrets between any of us.

"I asked him because I knew he'd be the only one that anyone else would have gone to and told before hand, when they needed to get something out."

It's starting to make a hell of a lot of sense now. It's true, we told Bob everything. He was like the group counsellor or something.

"He told me that Wade was the one who crashed my car. He told me that Ken was the one who wiped my computer's hard-drive... and he told me that you thought you were in love with me, said you'd thought you had been for a few months before I had to leave."

I don't know what to say... He truly knew everything, except maybe one thing. There's something in his story that wasn't quite one-hundred percent.

"That's not true..." I whisper softly.

A look of embarrassment coated Mark's features like he'd been wrong all along, sadness rushed through him just as fast.

"Sorry, I ahh... I thought he was telling me the truth, and I..."

"I loved you for years before you left," I cut in quickly.

This time it was his turn to freeze and the two of us fall silent as he watches me closely.

"I mean," I continue on, "I'd never told anyone apart from Bob, and until now, I thought he'd taken that information to his grave with him... But I guess I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Mark chimes in, "To tell you the truth, I was happy when I found out, I was happy that I had you."

Happy to have me? Who would be happy to have me?

"I am sorry though, that I hurt you the way I did, Jack. I never intended for this to happen, to play out the way it has. I was so worried that if anyone knew the truth, that I was still alive, they'd fine them; they'd find you."

"It was never your fault." I tell him. By now I'm leaning against a wall, and as I finish letting the syllables fall from my tongue I slip down the wall into a sitting position. I tuck my knees up to my chest hard trying to make sense, proper sense of everything flying around my aching head.

"When Wade told me that you, well, died, I did go downhill, but you know that now after I so rudely pushed it in your face. I guess I just didn't know what to do with myself after that. I was failing school, and it's true, the depressive thoughts and just generally depressiveness and self-harm was because I missed you so, so fucking much. I couldn't bare it. I don't want to make you feel bad by telling you this of course, but it continued on for about a year into all of this... I stopped on the anniversary of this happening, of my mother dying, of you. And I wish I could say I stopped because I had an earth-shattering and life-changing epiphany, but truth is, I stopped because I'd done it so much, I couldn't even feel it anymore."

I didn't want to tell him this, god I wouldn't have at all had the moment been different, because I don't want him to feel bad about something I did. This, what's happened to me, is my fault and mine only. In the end though, I guess I just kinda wanted it out in the open. I'd have to put it out there to get anywhere with him ever again. Of course I want things to go back to the way they were between us, more than maybe even him, I really do.

But this world isn't built to grant wishes, and I know, that no matter what, the way things were will never be again, not completely anyway.

"Well I guess in this new found spirit of getting it out there, I should probably be completely honest with you as well..."

"You don't have to do that, Mark."

"Yes I do. I want to, no, I need to..."

"...Okay."

"The reason I was so happy you liked me was because, god forbid, I was in love with you too."

What?

"I'm gay."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Gay? I'd never even considered that he could have been gay. Mark hadn't had anything but girlfriends as long as I've known him, but I mean, he hasn't any reason to lie about it either... But why come out now? Why here? Of course I understand how hard it can be to come out with something this big to anyone but, I mean I was his best friend... Is it possible he's only saying these things because he doesn't feel like he has any other choice? People are hard to come by there days and all, but would he really lie about something like this for something like that?

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Mark asks from beside me. I must have zoned out on him again; seems to be becoming a regular thing now.

"What do you want me to say?" I question him back. I don't ask him out of anger, or surprise... Well I'm a little surprised, but I ask him more out of curiosity than anything... I don't really know what to say let alone what he wants me to say, I haven't a clue. I honestly kinda want him to tell me what to say.

"I don't know, just anything'll do... Just something to show me that you don't actually hate my guts for what I've just told you?"

Hate him?

"Why would I hate you for telling my something like that?" I ask simply. Really how could I? What's there to hate? I mean, yeah he kept it hidden for a good few years; is that it? Is it the fact that he's gay? I'm Bi, so why would that affect me in any way at all?

"I... maybe because I kept secrets, I made you hurt yourself... I made Bob give up your secrets as if they were a gift for some kinda sick pity party I'd thrown myself..."

It's true; he'd asked Bob to tell him, but still, no hate. There's one thing on my mind right now though, but I've got no idea how I'm supposed to tell him, or if it's even the right time... well, here goes nothing I guess.

"Mark?" I begin with caution.

"Yeah?" he replies almost immediately.

I knew what I want to say, but...

"I- ahh, well..."

"Jack?"

"We should get going... we don't wanna be out here too long..."

Fuck.

Upon exiting the building through the roof I take in a crisp breath of fresh air. The sky's a dark blue, a deep dark blue, and the stars far from invisible. When had it gotten dark?

"Umm, once we've got the car," Mark begins, "How are we gonna get it out of here? As far as I know, everything was blocked off to contain the spread."

I have a pretty good idea. I know there's one final store we'd need to get into before leaving. There's a weapons dealer that I'd stashed a few things in a long while ago, maybe eight months. Hopefully everything's still there.

"Don't worry, I have a plan, but for now..." I trail off looking over the edge of the large, ten-story drop between the building we're on top of and the roof of the next not too far away. He seems to get what I'm gesturing towards.

"What if I fall?" He asks, I'm guessing more to him than to me.

"Well..." I think quietly, "you just don't wanna do that." He flashes me a look, a small smirk if anything. He looks almost impressed as well, like his still wondering how it is twenty-four months can change a person so much, who it can create; or re-create if you will. I'm different, there's no denying that on any level, and I know better than anyone that I'm nowhere near the person I was back then, and I hope I'm never that person again.

"Okay." I shake my arms out again, the slight ebb of before now mostly deteriorated against my bones, "So you wanna back up as far as you think you'll need to and then a little more for good measure, begin running as fast as you can and then you just launch yourself over the side," I instruct as he peaks at the ground below again.

"Remind me why we can't just walk there?" He turns his attention back to me.

"This is faster, safer as well; plus it's night now, they're gonna be everywhere," I remind him. Is he afraid of jumping?

He nods slowly, fearful of the leap or not, and swallows thickly.

"Now, jumping isn't the hard part," I continue onwards with my instructions. He watches me contently paying close attention, "It's landing..."

"What happens if I land wrong?" he asks before I can continue.

"Well you can possibly break your back, or your neck, legs or arms," I admit smiling at him. My remark though only seems to make him slightly more uneasy.

"And if that happens?" He does genuinely look worried, maybe joking around isn't the way to go about this, it doesn't seem to be what he needs right now. I keep momentary eye contact with the man before letting out a sigh. Of course this would be harder on him; I've been doing it for years. You idiot, not everyone's a post-suicidal freak like you.

"You want me to get all sappy on you?"

He nods with a dim smile, god Mark. Really? I exhale again.

"Well, look, Mark if you fall, and I can't catch you, I swear to you right now that I will carry you home," I ensure, feeling the sweetness of my words almost play against me to rot my teeth. God who even am I anymore?

Instead of worry about who I am now instead I watch the flicker of light dance in his eyes as he takes in my promise, and if anything in this world can make me feel anything again, it'll be this. Finding Mark will most definitely be the best and worst thing that could have happened to me throughout this entire experience, maybe even my entire existence. I missed him so much, and right now in this very moment I feel like maybe without him I'm nothing more than a shell of a warrior anyway... I wonder if maybe, he still felt anything as he did towards me...

He smiles now and gives a sincere nod.

"Same to you, Jack," he whispers as we near closer to the edge together. I smile back at him as I fill with warmth.

"Okay, so when you land it's best if you roll onto your shoulder and get back up like that, you know, commando roll or whatever, you get it?" I ask watching the ledge of the opposing building.

"Watch me..." I back up as far as I believe'll be enough and then a little more like I'd said, and then take in a deep breath.

I throw myself forwards at a full sprint just as I did before when climbing the tree and just as I reach the edge I propel myself into the air and towards the other side. The concretes nearing me at a fast pace so I quickly begin my roll on my side and shoulder before becoming still against the cold, man-made stone. An intense pain washes over my entire being causing me to punch the cement grazing my knuckles against the rough rock in an attempt to distract myself from the ebbing and pounding. I groan and hold my head. It sweeps through me like a migraine on a mission but I'm not backing down to it... I can't show Mark.

I stand back on my feet and beckon for him to take his turn. Mark does the same as I showed him and once back up on two feet, seems proud of it as well. I raise my hand to give him a high-five, and as our hands connect his smile falters.

"What?" I ask.

"You're bleeding..." he answers looking from my eyes to my nose. I wipe the hand that isn't already covered in blood under my nose against my upper lip and when I pull it away it reveals more blood pooling in the centre of my palm.

"Why are you bleeding?" There's concern lacing his silk layered vocal cords. I watch him as he glances down to my other hand as well.

"And what happened here?" he asks again deepening his concern.

"I just grazed my hand, must have gotten some on my face, no big deal." I answer. I'm slightly concerned myself though, because as far as I can recall, I've never had a blood-nose in my life. I must have hit my head a lot harder that I thought I had. The headaches, the nose-bleed... Oh well, onwards and upwards we go. I shouldn't be worried about something like this, because we've got something much more important to deal with.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Positive."

"Jack..."

"I'm fine!" I didn't mean to yell, I just... We need to get going, and worrying about myself isn't going to get this job done.

"Let's just keep going, there are a few more buildings to jump too." I shake my head trying to rid the pulsing behind my eyes.

Mark lets out a huff as I walk towards the other end of the rooftop.

"Your nose's still bleeding by the way. You must have wiped your grazed hand against it again."

I wipe it off again and keep on my way.

We make our way across the rooves of buildings towards our desired location. I'd get the same head-spins and pains with every jump, but I can't tell Mark... like I said before, there are more important matters at hand.

As we reach the car yard Mark quickly glances around taking his pick of the lot. I'll let him choose because who am I to tell him what we should get. I'm not sure of the make and model of the one he's found but it's a large, four-door, seven-seater, black four-wheel-drive. It'll definitely do the job. There's plenty of space in the back to load things in. It's huge.

This place is an old dealership, so the keys are bound to be here somewhere. I'm surprised no one's taken this beauty already.

"It's a good find if I do say so myself," he says to himself wiping dust from the windows. It's true; it's exactly what we need.

Mark strolled casually from the car picking up and old pipe from the tattered ground as he neared the building the dealership was built around and just as quickly as the glass had been there, it's gone. Mark drives the metal pipe through the window immediately stepping through after it. I turn my head catching a glimpse of the old ammunition store a few buildings down on the other side of the road.

"Hey, Mark?" I call in.

"Yeah?"

"I'm going down the street a little. There's some stuff I need," I call into him as I watch the door swing open and shut.

"You mean that gun store?" he yells back out.

"Yeah, the ammo joint."

"But, wouldn't that place be cleared out by now? I mean, it's been two years," he reasons. He has a point, but I know where I hid my stuff, and I'm still ninety percent sure that it'll still be right where I left it.

"I'll be back in a little," I exclaim finally after a short moment of thought.

"Jack!" Mark yells out towards me looking out through the broken window. I turn back to face him giving him my attention.

"Just, be careful." It was more like he was asking me more than telling me as he watches onwards. I smile and throw him a nod. It's nice having someone give a shit whether I'm dead or alive.

As Mark ducks back into the darkness looking for the keys I start across the street, walk down a little, and then through a loosely swinging door; my knife at the ready.

Inside the building I briefly glance around making sure everything's clear before making my way into the back and pulling a shelf from the wall over and onto the floor creating a loud crumbling clattering noise. I sigh as I notice my belongings still where I'd hidden them months before hand. Pulling my black duffle from the hole in the wall releases a puff of dust to erupt into my immediate area. As I hold it something falls from on top and shatters against the hard, laminated cement below. Down at my feet I see something I genuinely thought I'd lost a long time ago. I watch the picture of my Ma and I that I'd stuffed in that draw all those years ago with the emergency torch.

Dropping the bag to the ground with a rough thud I kneel against the floor and pick up the loosely-fitting photo framed in dark-wood. I looked so happy... Ma looked happy as well... This picture was taken on my birthday. Ma had just brought me my first laptop computer. I remember she'd saved up for months to get me something that I'd really like, and god I did, I loved that old thing.

I swipe at the jagged glass still holding itself against the frame with my right hand giving myself a couple of small cuts in the process but I can't find it in myself to care. I really thought that I'd lost it. I thought that maybe I'd left it someplace that I'd stayed overnight. I remember putting it in here now though, to keep it safe.

I hear someone enter the store behind me but I don't turn around, it'd only be Mark after all. Even though I know he's in the building with me it doesn't stop me jumping slightly and dropping the picture again when he touches my shoulder, The frame clatters to the ground and I stare at it before looking to Mark for the first time since he'd entered.

"Jack? What happened?" he asks taking my right hand in his and looking over the small, blood-smeared tears against my skin.

I don't answer him, I know he understands why when he kneels down to pick up my photo.

"I remember this picture," he whispers to himself. That's right... Mark was there that day, he'd been the one to take the picture for us.

"We should go..." I whisper to him.

And so we do.


End file.
